


Useless

by Papapaldi



Series: Does it Matter (It's Klaus) [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark Klaus, M/M, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papapaldi/pseuds/Papapaldi
Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.





	1. Burn up with the water

**Author's Note:**

> I've made this a part two rather than the next chapter because I was really happy with the way that 'Fifty-one years (and one day) later' ended, and wanted it to be read as a self-contained (relatively short) story. However, I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen next in this version of events! (thanks to AlgaeSmoak for the idea) 
> 
> So, if you want more of this timeline, and are ready for some MAJOR angst, then continue at your own risk :) I hope you enjoy!

_2 days, 16 hours_

He took the briefcase back up to his room after he was done lecturing them all. He finally had them all gathered in one place, and he had a lead on who was going to cause the apocalypse. He’d had to… circumvent a couple of things to get them all here, all ready for what was coming, but it was all trivial in relation to the extinction of the human race. Well, that’s what he told himself anyway. He dusted off the case and tucked it under his bed. The shrapnel still embedded in his side sent a pulse of white hot pain through him as he bent over. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he would be no use to the others if his wound got worse and he was put out of commission for hours, even days… that wouldn’t do. He resolved, however reluctantly, to talk to Mom about patching it up. She may have been a robot, but her first aid training was impeccable.

…

_2 days, 14 hours_

Five had sent the other three off on errands of their own – Diego and Allison to dig up data on Harold Jenkins from the local police station, and Luther to search through Dad’s research for something about that impending apocalypse good’ol’Reggie would always work into the odd lecture or grandiose speech. Klaus, on the other hand, was useless. He couldn’t be trusted with anything important, and for good reason. Five had said that all of them needed to be together to stop this thing, but Klaus felt like he could’ve slunk away into the shadows without any of them noticing. He’d turned up after being missing for a day, a few shades darker, hair shorter, new tattoos and muscles and everything, and Five had been the only one who’d noticed.

That’s where he was going now, to see Five. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help – not that he particularly cared about helping – just to clear his conscience so he could laze around guilt-free. There was that, and the fact that Five seemed hurt. He’d been clutching his side earlier, limping like he was injured. He wasn’t the sort to admit when something was wrong with him, to show signs of weakness.

It was strange to see Five’s old room occupied again, they’d kept the door shut for so many years, never wanting to renovate or reuse the space, never wanting to admit that he was really gone. There was some crazy math shit on the walls that made Klaus’ head spin, and that creepy mannequin was smiling at him from the bed. He didn’t want to think about what his little (way older) brother and that mannequin got up to at night.

The bed was covered in dirt, and Klaus followed the trail down to the floorboards, leading under the bed. There was a pretty battered looking black briefcase under there, but Klaus knew better than to open it this time. So Five had one after all, then why had he been so angry at Klaus for destroying the last one? And why had he bothered using a fake briefcase just yesterday when he met up with those psychos from the motel? He turned the object over in his hands, there was damp, dark mud covering the bottom corners – and it was fresh. There were sticky strips all over it, where duct tape had been pulled off, taking some of the black coat with it. It was scratched up, worn out, not like the pristine, perfect box Klaus had used. In fact, he could have sworn that pattern of scratches where the very same that Klaus had dug in with his nails during his nervous nights in the jungle, clutching it, reminding himself of where he’d been, and of what he’d decided to give up but never brought himself to let go. One of the latches was missing from the top of the case, as if it had snapped off at the axis. Suddenly, a rush of recognition shot through him and he rummaged in the pockets of his military vest, puling out a black hunk of plastic he’d found back in Vietnam. It had been lying in the jungle on the path back to the tent… just sitting there at the edge of the clearing where Klaus had lost everything. It fit perfectly in the space that the case’s missing latch had left behind – clearly, this was where it had come from. Had Five stolen this case from another of those time travelling bastards?

“Hey Ben, take a look at this,” He beckoned his brother over, who’d been leaning in the corner of the room, bored. “I found a piece of this case back in 1968, so whoever Five took this from was there that night.” He was perplexed - what would Five’s old time travelling buddies want with - “Dave.” He said, eyes staring off, far away, to another time. He heard the racket of gunfire ricocheting around his skull, the whistle of bombs dropping, the thundering of helicopter blades, screams and cries of triumph. His voice, strained against the uncaring din, screaming for help...

“Klaus?” Ben asked, leaning over him, his face knotted with concern. Klaus pulled his hands from over his ears, wiping away the beginnings of tears that had been forming in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he lied. “It’s just, Luther said that Five’s old employers were all about ‘correcting the timeline’ or whatever. I stole their briefcase time machine thingy, and I’ll bet they knew about it too.”

“So you think, what-“

“They came to kill me, or at least get the case back.”

Ben thought for a moment. He hadn’t been there with Klaus during those months, being negative-twenty-one years old and all. He’d only spent a night wondering where Klaus had gone when he’d disappeared on the bus, wondering if he would ever rematerialise. He’d been so happy when he found Klaus again, knowing that he wouldn’t be banished from this plane of existence for good, wouldn’t have to face the fact that he no longer existed in any real sense. He’d been happy, until he saw the blood on his hands and the hurt in his eyes - the tan and the tattoos and the fresh wave of grief he was drowning in. Of course, he’d never met Dave, but he could tell how much he meant to Klaus - a shred of hope and normalcy found in the least normal of situations - and even that had been taken away. “So you think they killed Dave?”

“I think they came to kill me, and Dave just got in the way.” They way Klaus was looking at him, begging him to prove him wrong, it was heart breaking.

“I... don’t think that makes a lot of sense,” he considered, pacing around the room. He used to spend so much time here as a kid, with Five and sometimes Vanya, taking a moment of peace away from their more rambunctious siblings. “They’re supposed to be professionals, I doubt they’d miss. What if they were trying to get the case back here, to the present where it belonged.”

“So then, they killed Dave?” Klaus was trying to puzzle it out. The fact that such an organisation existed at all was a troubling notion. It might have even caused him some form of existential distress if he wasn’t already so deep in a pit of self-loathing and nihilistic indifference that he didn’t care anymore.

“Well, wasn’t he the reason you stayed? You told me you only stuck around because of him, what if they knew that?” Ben tried to pretend that he wasn’t hurt by this notion - he was dead, after all, and didn’t make for great company. Would Klaus really have abandoned him? More importantly, would he really have abandoned everyone else?

…

“Klaus?” Five was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, watching Klaus fiddling with the briefcase he’d stowed under there. He was muttering to himself, like he so often did. A shot of panic ran through Five’s thoughts, but he promptly reminded himself that there was no way that Klaus could retain any memories from his un-lived life, there was no way he could know. “What are you doing?”

Klaus jumped and looked around to see Five standing there, the shrapnel now removed from his gut and bandaged up. “Oh, hey there Five, I thought you’d be busy, you know, stopping the apocalypse and all.”

“I came to get my gun, In case you forgot, I have someone to kill today.”

“Right, of course,” he hummed to himself for a moment, clearly not getting the hint that Five wanted him to leave, “won’t that look a little suspicious though, I mean, you’re a little schoolboy walking down the street with a hunting rifle,” he giggled, “might turn some heads.”

Five knew that Klaus was just trying to get on his nerves, it was one of his very few talents, but Five didn’t rise to the bait. He only sighed and walked over the threshold, Klaus’ eyes trained on him all the while.

“Where did you get this?”

“What?” He sighed, not looking forward to another trivial discussion.

“The briefcase.” Five’s stomach turned. “What about it? I got it from my employers, same place Hazel and Cha-Cha got their’s.”

“Looks a bit battered up though, wouldn’t you say, not like Chazel and Ha-ha’s at all.” He looked up and began muttering to himself, as if an invisible person was standing by his side - maybe there was. “See, I’m not traumatised, I don’t even remember their names,” he laughed, hollow and forced. Five rolled his eyes.

“Get to the point, Klaus, I’m kinda busy here.”

“I just want to know who’s briefcase this is. See this,” He held up the broken off piece of the latch, waving it in the air, “I found this in the middle of a battlefield in the Vietnam war.” Five shrugged his shoulders, doing is best to feign disinterest.

“Huh,” Klaus murmured, studying Five’s expression, “you’re not surprised?”

“What are you talking about?” He was on edge, had he slipped up, was it possible that Klaus knew something?

“Well, I never told you I served in Vietnam, all I said was that I went back in time.” _Shit_. “You’re smart Five,” he continued, a smirk on his face at catching Five out, “but you’re not a mind reader - as far as I know anyway. And if you are I think you’re obligated to tell me because my thoughts are pretty fucked up and I’ll have to remember to tone them down for your young, naive ears.” Again, that laughter, the sound that masked the truth - that his mind was falling apart.

Five tried his best to mask his shock and think up a quick reply, but it was too late, his expression had already betrayed him. “Look Klaus, you’re a mess, I know it, you know it, we all know it,” Klaus nodded eagerly, smiling fondly to himself. Was this man capable of taking anything seriously? “You told me about Vietnam,” he lied, “you probably just forgot about it.”

“Did I?” He asked quietly, to no one in particular. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He rounded on Five again, dragging himself to his feet. “Tell me the truth Five, it’s okay, I’m not Luther. I’m not going to lecture you about how,” he pouted, puffing our his chest and putting on a comically deep voice, “murder is wrong, number Five.” He paused, obviously expecting Five to laugh. “Okay,” he shrugged, murmuring under his breath again, “tough crowd. At least I know you appreciate me.” A moment of silence, then Klaus hissed at the empty air.

Five was starting to panic. If Klaus really did suspect him, why on earth was he being so cool about it? He knew that Klaus used humour as a coping mechanism, it was his defining characteristic, but this was a step on the side of lunacy. “What are you getting at?” He said, coldly.

“I’m just saying, if you killed this bastard, I want to know!” He exclaimed. Five realised he wasn’t talking about Dave. He thought that Five had killed the previous owner of the briefcase, the agent that he suspected had killed Dave instead. It hurt, a twist like a knife to the gut, that Klaus hadn’t even entertained the idea that Five had been the one to pull the trigger. “Come on Five,” he cooed, “did you kill the bastard who owned this case?”

“I did... in a way.” Because the man that Klaus had become was dead, fifty years of his life gone in a moment. Fifty years of happiness... But it had to be done. Allison and Diego would be back any second now with the information he needed, if he could just stomach this conversation for a moment longer, he could leave facing the consequences to another day. For now, it was essential that they all stick together, no matter if all that held them in place was lies.

“Well, congratulations man,” Klaus’ earnest smile made Five feel sick. He trusted him, completely. Klaus looked down at the floor, the light in his eyes suddenly drained out. “But that means,” he murmured, “that means it really was my fault.”

“What?” Five asked.

“Well, if those guys go around correcting the timeline, then they were there for me - God I was so selfish,” he put his head in his hands, burying his face, trying to hide away. “I thought I could just stay there and forget about all of this and I loved him and then... he died for it. He died because of me. This is all my fault.” His shoulders shook with silent sobs. It tore Five apart. “Why do I have to ruin everything?” He muttered, breaking down. “Why couldn’t I just leave him alone, he was better off, everything would be better off if I just-“

“Klaus.” Five said, trying to get through to him.

Klaus seemed to remember that Five was standing there, watching all of this unfold. “Fuck, Five I’m sorry,” he sniffed, trying compose himself, “thanks for what you did, even though you didn’t do it for me or anything, I mean, why would anyone do that?” He laughed again, that same hollow, pleading cry for help.

“Don’t say that,” he muttered, but Klaus didn’t seem to hear. “Please, please don’t say that,” because Five could feel his will unravelling.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so useless with this whole apocalypse thing,” Klaus said, “I’ll get my shit together, okay? I’ll actually be useful for once, just give me something to do.” And there it was, Five had him right where he wanted him - but he couldn’t take it. He’d been a fool to think that forty-five years away from this place had desensitised him to all the weakness that came with love and empathy. Despite everything he’d tried to bury, when loving had been too painful, Five still cared. It was as if two facets of himself were locked in a game of tug of war, the part that had suffered through the future and knew what had to be done, and the part that couldn’t stand seeing his brother broken like this; the way he blamed himself and felt indebted to him despite the damage Five had done to him. Was the world worth this? No matter the cost, he decided that it was.

Klaus was still standing there, smiling tearfully, and despite everything that Five stood for, that to love was reckless, that it brought only danger and pain, that the truth was worshipped like a false idol, relative, irrelevant, his to twist to more important ends... he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“It was me,” He muttered, barely more than a whisper. Klaus looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. There was no turning back now. “I killed Dave.”


	2. The floods are on the plains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is there any way to silence that voice in your head that screams out to be the centre of attention?"

“What?” Klaus only asked because he knew he couldn’t have heard him correctly. He looked sidewards at Ben, but he looked just as perplexed as he did. Both of them rounded on Five, who looked uncomfortable, scuffing at the floorboards with one of his feet. “What did you say?” Klaus asked again.

“I said,” he sighed, unable to look Klaus in the eyes, “I’m the one who killed Dave.”

“W-what the hell are you talking about, Five?” Again, that nervous laughter. Five couldn’t stand anymore of it.

“Will you stop laughing!” He snapped, “listen to what I’m saying, will you?”

Klaus stared at him, empty eyes, “why?”

“The world needs you, Klaus,”

His lip was quivering, he couldn’t bear anymore of this ‘apocalypse’ crap. “Bullshit,” he muttered, turning away.

“It’s true, okay, I know it because I’ve seen it! The world will end in three days, unless we, the umbrella academy, can stop it.” Klaus was shaking his head, walking away. “Hey, hey, no, look at me,” he cried, “that means you as well, and the only way to get you back here was to get rid of the one thing that was holding you back, distracting you from what you needed to–“

“Don’t call him a thing!” He screamed, “his name was Dave, he was a person!” He spluttered, “a-and distraction from what, Five, I didn’t sign up for this shit! I found someone I loved and you’re telling me that you… you killed him?”

“I only did what I needed to–“

“oh come on–“

“To _save_ this family, Klaus, doesn’t that mean anything to you? If I hadn’t intervened you would have stayed in 1968, you would never have come back here, and we would have lost.”

“No,” he snapped, “you don’t know that, you can’t possibly know that.”

“I know everything.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, “Oh you are so full of shit,” he spat. “You couldn’t have just, oh I don’t know, asked me to come back!”

“Would you have said yes? No! Because you’ve never cared about us, all you’ve wanted to do is run away, your whole life.”

Klaus chuckled, “that’s real rich coming from you, which one of us ran away for, what was it, sixteen years?”

“I got stuck, I did everything I could to get back here and save your sorry asses–“

“But you loved it, didn’t you. Always better than everyone, so far above the rest, you know what?” He struggled to speak between shallow, strangled breaths. “You deserved what you got! You finally got to be the best, because everyone else was dead!”

Five tried not to let his words hurt him, after all, he deserved far worse than this. “I am trying to save the world here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No, you’ve gone insane! Your girlfriend is a fucking mannequin, and you’re so addicted to this idea of saving the world that you’re dragging all of us down with you – you know what Five,” he said, triumphant, “you’re just like Dad.”

He sighed, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got this idea in your head that we’re supposed to stop the apocalypse, but you have no idea, do you? For all you know, the world is going to end and we’ll all be powerless to stop it, and you can’t fucking accept it! You’re hanging onto this fantasy that we’re all special somehow, that it was all worth it.” The sobs were breaking through his speech, cheeks wet, no time to think about what he was hearing. All he felt was anger. “You’re trying to control us, control time for fucks sake. I mean look at you, y-you’re even wearing the uniform!”

“It was the only thing that fit –”

“No, you can’t let go of the only thing you knew before you died. Because you died, Five, I don’t know who you are now but you’re not my brother.”

“Oh grow up Klaus, I’m sorry but there are more important things at stake here. More important than me, or you, and definitely more important that Dave.”

It was the way he said it, the way he didn’t even seem to care.

Klaus launched forwards, trying to grab Five by the neck, but he jumped away in a twist of blue light, standing over the other side of the room in less than a moment. “It doesn’t have to be like this Klaus,” he sounded like he was lecturing him “just come downstairs and we can get to work.”

“Don’t patronise me, you little shit!” He spat. Usually Ben would try and stop him from doing stupid things like picking fights with his brothers, but he didn’t say a word.

“Just forget about him, Klaus!” He cried, as Klaus lunged for him again and he shot away. “You were never even meant to be there, I did you a favour –“

“SHUT UP!” He roared, and a darkness fell across the room. Klaus’ breaths came heavy, tears streaming down his reddened face. Five tried to jump, but he was powerless, nothing but pale pulses of energy emanating from his hands. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered, drawing his hand back to strike. Dark shapes shifted in the corner of his vision, breaking through from other planes, a pulse of voices in his head, amplified louder than he’d ever heard them. Something stirred, and Five must have felt it too, because Klaus could’ve sworn that was fear in his eyes. Klaus didn’t hear the round of hurried footsteps that thundered up the stairs, and when Luther, Diego, and Allison all burst into the room, they found an incriminating scene. Klaus, with his fist drawn, Five looking scared and exhausted… Luther was the first to act, pulling Klaus away from Five in his huge, smothering arms. The dust settled to the floor again, and Klaus felt more drained than ever, shivering as he struggled against his brother’s grip.

“Klaus,” Allison cried, “what were you doing?”

“You okay man?” Diego added, catching sight of Klaus’ tear-stained face. “we heard shouting upstairs and –“

“He killed him,” Klaus sobbed, “it was him!” He pointed at Five. He was having trouble organising his thoughts, everything was blurred.

“Killed who? What is he talking about Five?” Luther asked, still restraining Klaus.

Five sighed. This was low, even for him, and he knew it. “I have no idea,” he grimaced, unable to meet Klaus’ gaze.

Klaus’ face fell in devastation for a moment, then knotted itself up in anger. “You little shit, I’ll –“ he kept on muttering obscenities under his breath, kicking against Luther as he struggled in his grasp.

“What’s gotten into him?” Luther asked, unfazed.

“Does it matter?” Five muttered, “It’s Klaus.”

“Well, he’s got a point there,” Diego sighed. “You high or something, bro?”

“No,” he spat, “I’m not fucking high, okay, Five’s an evil little bastard!”

“We’re well aware of that,” Allison smiled, and Five returned the gesture.

“Are you sure you’re not high?” Luther prompted, as Klaus rapidly lost energy from all the kicking and screaming. He was slipping through Luther’s grip – he felt like he could slip through the floorboards and right down into the earth.

“Oh, he’s definitely high.” Five sighed.

“How’re you supposed to stop the impending apocalypse if you won’t sober up, Klaus?”

“He killed Dave,” Klaus sobbed, voice ragged, no energy left to scream out.

“Who’s this Dave guy?” One of them asked, their voices all sounded the same, none of them believing, none of them caring, none of them even listening.

“No idea,” Five again. Luther let Klaus go, and he collapsed onto the floor, still muttering, but no one could hear, “he killed him, he killed him, he killed him, he –“

“What should we do with him, like, can we give him something?” He could feel their eyes on him, pity, shame, disgust.

“I think we’ve just got to wait it out.”

“He’ll just get in the way if we bring him along, in this state anyway.”

“Speaking of, what did you find?”

“Well, you aren’t going to like this, Five.”

“What?”

“Vanya’s boyfriend is Harold Jenkins, and he’s a convicted murderer.”

“And you let her leave the house with this psycho?”

“Hey, it’s not like we knew!”

“I would’ve known.”

“Yeah, takes one to know one, hey Five.”

“Shut up Diego.”

Their voices kept on going and going and they didn’t even care that he was lying there falling apart. He was just Klaus, useless, useless, useless. They just left him there, talking about more important things as they walked back down the stairs. He was just Klaus, the kid who never really grew up, craving the centre of attention just like he craved the pills that dulled his mind and drove him crazy. He was never really one of them, never strong enough, never any help on missions because he was too afraid of himself, always scared, always crying at night when the voices wouldn’t stop and they never understood, never cared to try. He didn’t belong with the living or the dead.

“Klaus?” Ben. He was the only one that cared what he had to say, and he wasn’t even real. “I’d help you up but, well, you know.” Klaus stayed silent, body still shaking, tears falling hot and fast. “I don’t even know what to say,” Ben admitted, crouching down beside him. “I can’t believe Five would do that, what happened to him?” Ben remembered the boy he’d known sixteen years ago, confident, almost to a fault, but kind. Deep down, he knew that Five still cared.

“They – they didn’t even listen…” he mumbled, eyes still pressed tightly shut.

“I know…” he didn’t know how to comfort him, because after years of lying and stealing, sleeping rough and living for his next high, Klaus’ siblings often struggled to see him as anything but a nuisance, someone to pity, because he couldn’t handle the simple day-to-day that they all took in their stride. He was stronger than they knew, Ben saw it, but only because he was with him through it all – the hardships beneath the careless attitude, the longing for something more than the empty life he led. “Can you walk?” He asked, reaching down to him. He couldn’t even touch him, couldn’t even give him the smallest of comforts.

“Yeah,” Klaus muttered, dragging himself up into a sitting position. “Fuck,” he groaned, hands pressed over his eyes, “I need my pills.”

“No, Klaus, you don’t, okay? They already think you’re high, don’t prove them right.”

“What am I supposed to do, live like this?” He looked up at Ben, pleading eyes, dark makeup running.

“Think about it, this is the most sober you’ve been in years, maybe you could try to actually… use your power.” Something had happened back there, something that Klaus had been too worked up in his emotions to even notice. Ben could’ve sworn he’d felt the barrier between two words breaking, a door opened just a crack, a stream of light shining through. Maybe Klaus really was capable of more.

“What, get yelled at by gutted corpses? – no offence,” he added.

“No, I mean, why don’t you try and conjure Dave.” Klaus eyes lit up with a sad, desperate longing. “Maybe if you can talk to him, about what happened to him, maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“You know Ben, this is why you’re my favourite dead brother,” he grinned, sniffling. Just the thought of seeing him again, it was enough to get Klaus back on his feet.

“Err, thanks?”

“And, after that shit show, you’re probably my favourite regular brother too.” He laughed, like he always did, but Ben knew how much it pained him to be turned away, again and again. He got to his feet, shivering form head to foot. “Well, you’re the expert on dead people Ben, where do we start?”

He glared at Klaus in feigned anger, but he couldn’t hold it for long. He broke a smile, “Dad always said a visual aid could help, do you want to break out the ouija?”

“God,” he sighed, “do I still even have that thing?” He cleared his throat, walking past Ben and down the hall.

It had been jarring, seeing his old room after so long. First, when he’d come for the funeral, not having seen the place in thirteen years, and second, when he’d come back from the war, having changed more in ten months than in the thirteen years prior, seeing it all untouched, his past waiting there for him, hungry. He’d knocked down the wall to Vanya’s room after she’d left for music school, but less than a year later he himself had left, and Diego soon after that. The walls were still covered in writing, symbols, poems, song lyrics, and scribblings of the dead’s mutterings, a way to make them feel real, a way for Klaus to concentrate on one voice in amongst the impenetrable noise. This was how his siblings still saw him, the scared, lonely kid holed up in his bedroom getting high, crying through the night, clawing at his skin. Stunted, frail, morbid, so very disappointing. All words his father would use as he watched Klaus retreat further and further into himself, never coming on missions, never leaving his room, barely eating, barely sleeping, barely even able to hold a thought for more than a few seconds in the daze.

He reached under the collar of his singlet, grasping the dog tags that now hung there. One for him, one for Dave. He’d pulled it off his corpse when he’d been sure that he’d stopped breathing. Was Five right? Would everything have been better off if he’d never gone back there, certainly Dave would have, and this heartbreak… No, not his fault, Five’s.

“You know, it just occurred to me,” he mumbled, caressing his thumb over the metal engraving, tracing the letters on his skin, "Five didn’t even say he was sorry.” He looked over at Ben, who was looking back with that pitiful smile, the only look he seemed to get from anyone around here. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Right,” he coughed, “the board.”

He found three of them stashed under his bed. One he’d gotten from Dad in his desperate attempt to help him connect with his power in a tangible way. It was all black and white, clear cropped, smart lettering. Klaus hadn’t touched it. His favourite was one he’d gotten from a fan at one of those parades. They’d all been holding up signs, decorated with glitter and block lettering, kids who looked up to them, who wished away their normal lives in favour the Hargreeves lives of cold experimentation, fruitless competition, needless suffering. Back then, the academy was still together in its entirety, and Klaus was still holding out hope that he’d be able to unlock and strengthen his powers further if he just let go of his fear. He’d heard his father talk of levitation, possession, physical manifestation of spirits… hypotheticals, based on his research, but it kept Klaus hopeful and, most importantly, obedient. The board was bright pink and covered in glitter. ‘The Seance’ was written across the underside in permanent marker, along with other scribblings of messages from his siblings and other fans. His eyes gravitated towards a message written in a neat, condensed hand – “Don’t be scared Klaus! You’re stronger than you know, give those mean spirits a taste of your awesomeness! – 5.” Whatever happened to that calm, confident kid who’d always laugh at Klaus’ jokes and tease his siblings, who’d sit with Vanya and Ben for hours in the library, who was always so proud of them all, so kind. He left that one behind too, and went for a more traditional board, the one he used most often. Curly brown lettering, swirled patterns on the corners. He snatched it up, still unsure if it would actually help him at all.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “I don’t want to be here when they come back.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of options, Klaus.”

“What about Vanya’s apartment,” he suggested, “she said I could come by anytime I was wandering around that part of town. I’m pretty sure I still have the key, and it’s not like she’ll be there, she’s off with that psycho murderer.” Ben looked down all of a sudden, it was clear that he was worried about Vanya, even more so by the fact that he could do nothing to help her. “Hey,” Klaus said, raising a compassionate hand to rest on his brothers shoulder. He thought better of it at the last moment, not wanting to remind them both of who was really here, and who wasn’t. “She’ll be okay, she’s tough.”

Ben smiled, nodding, “yeah, she is.”

“We can find somewhere else to go once she comes back, but until then... I just can’t be near the others, okay?” Ben nodded again. “Alright then, we have a plan!” He kept on smiling, running on the hope that it really was possible for him to see Dave again. Maybe that would help him come to terms with what had happened. He didn’t care if his siblings thought he was crazy, none of them mattered if he could just talk to Dave again.


	3. The planets in a rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s time to embrace who you are, who you’ve been all along.”

_2 days, 7 hours_

 “I feel like an idiot.” He was sat cross-legged in the middle of Vanya’s living room. He’d cleared away the couch and coffee table to the outskirts of the room, clearing a space for himself, his ouija board, and a couple of expired scented candles he’d found underneath his bed back at the academy. 

“Just give it a try, Klaus,” Ben encouraged. He was siting by the window, watching the sun set over the dusky cityscape below. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Klaus groaned. “That’s such a dumb thing to say, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re just sitting in the middle of an apartment with your eyes closed, don’t be superstitious.”

 “I’m literally holding a Séance right now,” he chuckled, “can’t get much more superstitious than this.” Ben shrugged and went back to staring out the window. Vanya’s house was small, scarcely decorated, and her wardrobe didn’t contain a single item of a shade that Klaus would qualify as a colour. He’d raided her fridge and made himself a meal of a peanut butter and dried noodle sandwich. He tried to sprinkle on the chicken flavour sashay as well but Ben wouldn’t stop yelling at him that it was a bad idea. Ben was usually right about that sort of thing, and most of Klaus’ ideas _were_ pretty bad.

 He wasn’t sure exactly how this was going to go down, seeing as he’d never tried to fully explore his connection with the dead, not since the days when his father had tried to force him into it. Back then, Klaus had been indifferent, eager to discover his power, but scared of what he might find there. He looked down at the ouija by his feet. Though it certainly looked the part of a Séance, he was pretty sure the board and the candles were more of an aesthetic touch than a practical asset. “Ok then spirits,” he shook his head, slapping his face and trying to clear his thoughts, “come at me.” 

...

“Ugh, I’m so bored,” he groaned, “come on Dave!”

 “It’s been seven minutes,” Ben muttered, sun now barely peeking over the lowest buildings on the horizon. 

 He shuffled to his feet. “Goddammit, I need a drink-“

 “Hey, no you don’t,” Ben jumped down from his windowsill perch. “Come on, don’t be pathetic.” 

 “Oh come on, Ben!” He whined, sitting back down on the floor with a pout on his face. “Pathetic’s all I’m good for.”

 “I know you’re only half joking. Don’t let them get to you,” why did he always have to see right through to the truth of what Klaus was feeling? Probably something to do with them being stuck together whenever Klaus was even remotely sober. “The best way to show them you’re worth their time is to get clean, let yourself actually think for the first time in years, then you can tell them the truth about what Five did.”

 He shook his head, “no, I don’t care, I just want to see Dave.”

 “Are you sure?” 

 “Yeah, I’m not doing this for them.”

 “Well, good, do it then. Concentrate. I believe in you, Klaus.” The two exchanged a smile, and Klaus closed his eyes again, furrowing his brow in concentration. 

 …

  _2 days, 6 hours_

 They began as shapes in his peripheral, faint whispers in his head. He tried to sift through them, with increasing urgency, searching for some echo of the one he loved. Nothing yet. The stronger, more desperate things would claw their way forth first. They were the ones who died in pain, in anger, stewing in regret and loose ends, gone without warning – and those how didn’t realise they were gone at all. It had been so long since Klaus had actively sought after his power, and he’d never done it for himself, it had always been for his Dad, a desperate attempt to please him, always in vain. 

Any time he truly allowed himself to focus, to relax, they always found their way to him. He was the bridge between two worlds, an anchor point to cling to, to use to claw back to a world of certainty and light. He didn’t know where they came from, darkness, purgatory, heaven or hell. Somewhere that consciousness didn’t exist the way it did here. Somewhere that tore away their humanity and their memories a shred at the time as the world forgot them, as they forgot themselves and became twisted, morbid creatures.  

There was a woman standing by the fridge, head hanging on by a thread. He repressed the urge to gag, watching the strings of flesh swinging loose. A man, body purple swollen with gout, pale, forcing out strangled breaths that he no longer needed to take. It didn’t take long for them to burrow their way inside his head. The darkness behind his eyes was soon occupied by faces, grasping fingers, open mouths, hungry eyes. Whispers turned to voices, and voices turned to screams. Wild, incomprehensible pain, cries for vengeance, for justice, pleads for help, crying, whining, wheezing, whiling away at his sanity one word at a time. He whimpered, and he could barely make out the strains of Ben’s voice through the din.

“Klaus, stay strong, I’m here,” he’d repeat it, whenever he saw Klaus struggling, “I’m here.”  

“I can’t do it, I can’t –”

“I’m here.”  

Maybe that’s all it took, knowing he wasn’t alone – that and the hope that sustained him. He tried to picture his face in his mind, his smile, his voice. Dave. The candlelight did little to guide the way, the board did little to bring order to the communion. It was chaos. Klaus had opened the gate and the evils where flocking to him. They couldn’t help it, the temptation was too strong, to be heard, to be seen, to be real again. 

“I’m here.” 

…

_2 days, 2 hours_

 He was back there again. The walls rose around him, dark stone brick, damp and cold. The black wrought-iron gate outside shuddered and clanged sharp metal in the wind, and moonlight shone through the prison-slit windows carved into the stone. He was suffocating. They were everywhere. He could feel them crawling under his skin, down his throat, through his veins. His eyes bulged, stinging and bloodshot, forced open – because if he closed them, he knew he’d only see _them –_ white, glazed fish-eyes, rotting flesh hanging off their skulls. 

  _Klaus, help me/kill them/they did this/why, why, why/it hurts, why does it hurt?/how do you see? What’s wrong with your eyes?_

 “Dad!” He screamed, even though he knew he wouldn’t come. He tried to press his knees up further into his chest, anything to make himself smaller, insignificant in the dark. “Let me out!” His voice was already hoarse, and his screams dragged against his ragged throat like a razor blade. He could taste blood in his mouth. “Dad!” 

  _What are you?/you’re not dead, not alive, what is it?/I need to get back/he’s not coming back for you/you’ll be trapped here forever/don’t cry/you’ll be here in the dark/What are you?_

 He clawed at the sides of his head, palms pressed to the ear drums, hard against the eyes until he saw golden spots, nails digging into his arms, bitting down on his hand until he tasted blood, anything to feel. _I’m not like you, I don’t belong here, I’m real, I’m alive, I’m alive._ How many times had it been now? This night had been dragging on forever, a part of him trapped here, left behind over twenty years ago, never quite the same, never quite whole. 

 “Please,” his voice was barely a whisper, “let me out, let me go,” 

 “Klaus?” He looked around for the source of the voice, not from inside him, but from someone else. He struggled to his knees, grazed and battered below his school shorts. “come back to me, okay?” Ben. Two decades of memories flooded back, because no matter how small it had been, a part of him had escaped this place, it had gone on living. Every night spent here, a sliver of glass chipped away, a spool unravelled just an inch, a little bit every time. His breathing came hot and fast as he dragged himself back to the surface. 

 “Are you okay?” The walls crumbled away. White plaster, dim candlelight, dull carpet beneath him. Ben was looking down, face stitched with concern. “You went there again, to the graveyard.” It wasn’t a question. Klaus looked down at himself, no uniform, he reminded himself, just his old boxers and the ouija board by his feet. He was huddled in the far corner of the room, knees pressed up to his chest, hands quivering. A hundred pairs of eyes looked on, and a thousand more watched from the shadows beyond. He shivered, nodding. He reached a hand up towards Ben for a moment, desperate for any reminder of what was real. “You can stop, if you want,” Ben said, staring down at him with same pitiful expression. Why, why did they all look at him like that? “Get some sleep, try again tomorrow.” Klaus scowled, dropping his hand down to the floor. He closed his eyes and re-submerged, back into the icy water, he couldn’t give up now. 

 …

_2 days_

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t make out the voice of his consciousness amongst the raging choir. They weren’t just noises anymore, they were something greater, infiltrating his very thoughts, merging with them, twisting them. Never before had he let himself fall so far into this second world inside himself – he’d always been so scared that he’d never find his way back again – but now he had nothing left to lose. He kept on reaching, down and down, searching for him. There was no sense to any of it; the voices were faceless and the faces were voiceless, all disembodied and coming apart. He wouldn’t find Dave like this, it wasn’t some sort of expedition, it was an attack, and he couldn’t fight it anymore. He was terrified, most of all of what he would find. Dave, dead for fifty years, deformed and hollowed by the nothingness, a shadow of who he’d been, no thoughts, no memories, dark eyes, screaming. What if he was too far gone? What if he didn’t even recognise himself anymore, let alone Klaus – and worse, what if he did, and he knew that the only reason he was dead was because Klaus was too selfish to leave well enough alone. 

His hold on them relaxed, and he felt himself pulled back into semi-consciousness. His eyes opened to a stretch of carpet, a throbbing headache, spinning vision. He must have collapsed onto the floor at some point. He spluttered, struggling for breath as if he’d just wrenched himself from the sea, lungs full of water. It was quiet, for a moment, but Klaus could still feel them there, subdued, but never really gone. He dragged himself up to a sitting position. His arms stung with fresh, shallow scratches, skin under his nails. The dog tags pressed cold against his heaving chest. He held them tightly as he looked around. The candles were extinguished, and the sky outside was dark. Ben was nowhere to be seen. 

There was a figure standing in the far corner of the room, just outside the faint ring of light produced by the single flickering bulb overhead. The dark inched closer, converging inwards. He realised that the sky outside wasn’t just dark, it was empty. The figure edged into the shrinking circle of light, exuding dark and cold. A child; grey skin, dark hair, shivering. Klaus.  

“H-how are you here?” Klaus mumbled, but the boy didn’t seem to hear. His eyes were wide and brimming with terror. The cheeks were swollen, hot, welted red and streaked with a tapestry of tears, fresh on dry. Blood was matted under the hair, violet wounds and blooming bruises - Klaus could feel it all on his skin, bubbling, past memories floating up and up. Both of them, old and young, reached out a shaking hand, desperate - the old, tattooed and wracked with shivers from withdrawal, and the young, blue and muddied from the mausoleum floor. Far too often, this was how Klaus felt on the inside, and it was certainly how his siblings still saw him – just a broken child. 

Another flash, a bright electric burst that shot through him like lightning. The boy was different now, no more tears, no more mud and blood and sweat. The blue academy uniform hung crisp and smart. Pale skin, dead eyes. The boy grinned, and Klaus shuddered, dragging himself across the carpet. He couldn’t explain the longing he felt, the need to keep on pushing, almost there, almost whole. All the while, the darkness kept on creeping in, from the sky outside to the building itself, emptiness eating it all away. The silence inside was eerie – was this what it felt like when there was only one voice inside your head? The boy kept on staring, indifferent, and was that - pity. That same fucking pity. He couldn’t escape that look, even inside his own head, self pity and loathing and disgust. 

The floor beneath him was swallowed up by the dark, nothing but endless black beneath, above, anywhere. He fell at the feet of the child, sobbing, grasping for that other life; before Five left, before Ben died, before he left the academy and tumbled down into disrepair. Where did all those years go? And all those years that could have been, if Five hadn’t...  

“Where is he,” he murmured, he hadn’t wanted any of this. He just wanted to see Dave again.  

“You’re pathetic,” the boy said, looking past him as Klaus grovelled at his feet. _I know, I know_. “All your life you’ve been scared of your abilities. If you’d just let go of your fear, give yourself up, you could be capable of so much more.”

“You sound like Dad,” he muttered, and when he looked up, it was Reginald standing there. Twisted frown, cold eyes, monocle pressed beneath his knotted, disapproving brow. The boy stepped out from behind him, the boy Reginald had always wished Klaus would be. Under his thumb, his instrument.  

“You are my greatest disappointment, Number Four,” that title, he had a name, but they were never children to him, they were weapons.  

“You’re not really here,” he mumbled, looking down. He felt like a kid again, eyes trained on his shoes as his father lectured him in the hall outside his office. 

“And neither are you,” the boy again. “You’ve never really been here, you’ve been empty for so long, carrying around this shell of yourself like dead weight. All this time trying to forget what it felt like when your power used to be so great, lurking just out of reach. You’ve buried it, under drugs and sadness and self pity, it’s time to find it again.”  

“Please, I just want to see Dave, I –” 

_Stunted, fretful, morbid/you’ve never cared about us/he’s right, you should leave/oh, he’s definitely high/shit’s crazy, I know/I did you a favour/haven’t even scratched the surface of your true potential/does it matter, it’s Klaus/you’re pathetic/my greatest disappointment –_  

“SHUT UP!” He screamed. The spirits in the graveyard, his brothers and sisters, all of them sounded the same. The scream ripped through his throat, sent his head reeling, ears ringing. He felt that darkness again, that pull from beyond his vision, the feeling he’d been running from since he was a kid. When he opened his eyes, they were gone. The darkness was empty, finally, empty. He wondered if he’d finally burrowed so deep that he’d never be the same again, that he’d never wake up. It was so much worse than the voices, it was just him, his thoughts, his feelings, bouncing around in the hollowness and growing, growing...

“Ben!” He cried, but even he wasn’t here. Klaus was alone. He pulled himself to his feet, walking on nothing. A small shadow rose from the ground beneath, solidifying, muffled cries breaking into the silence. It was him, the boy, cowering in the corner of the mausoleum. He looked around, eyes searching the dark, unseeing. “Hey,” Klaus said, softly, approaching him, “hey, it’s okay.” Tears stung Klaus’ cheeks, but they weren’t his, echoes of the past. “It’ll be over soon,” he crouched down in front of the child, his breathing still rapid, only a flicker of recognition in the eyes. “You can go home now.” Klaus blinked, and the boy was gone. He stood up, craning his neck, searching the never-ending darkness. What was he feeling – peace? He could breath in deep for the first time, hear his own thoughts ring true. Only one voice remained. It wasn’t chaotic, wasn’t fighting for his attention over a mass of others, it was unified, singular, beckoning. _You’ve been dancing on the precipice between this world and the other for so long, looking down, terrified. It’s time to jump. It’s time to fall._  

_Voice of the voiceless, make us whole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure about this chapter, things kinda went full on metaphysical weird vision trip shit and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense… trying to write someone losing their mind is… difficult to do without seeming like you’re trying waaaaay too hard to be ultra vague and descriptive so, let me know if it works??


	4. Who knows what they contain

_1 day, 20 hours_

He’d been unreachable for those final hours. Passed out on the floor, heart beating weakly, skin flushed and drenched in sweat, yet shivering. Ben felt himself being pushed away, stuffed back down into the dark. Was Klaus finally learning how to control the spirits? How to keep them at bay? Or were they killing him? Tearing him apart piece by piece, while Ben was powerless to stop it.

When he finally clawed himself back to a place at his brother’s side, the hardest he’d ever had to work to stay beside him, Klaus was sitting as he’d started the night. Crosslegged on the carpet, candles burning, melted halfway to the base, smiling. The sun was coming up as Klaus came to. Hazy deep blue sky underneath the black, stars fading.

“Klaus?” He asked, but his brother seemed far away, oblivious. That’s when Ben noticed that Klaus wasn’t sitting on the carpet at all, he was levitating about an inch above it, a barely-visible shimmer of pale gas stretching between his body and the floor. One night of allowing himself to explore his power, opening himself up completely... and this. He didn’t want to break his concentration, he didn’t even think that Klaus knew what he was doing. He reached out his hand, instinctively, realising a moment too late that the gesture would pass right through Klaus’ shoulder like a draft of wind, only, it didn’t. Ben could only stare, dumbfounded, as his hand touched Klaus’ shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and his deep, heaving breaths. “What the fuck,” he whispered.

“Who?” Klaus eyes fluttered open, a flash of blue light so bright, and gone so soon, that Ben couldn’t sure whether or not he’d imagined it. Klaus looked down at Ben’s hand, then back to his shocked face. “Shit, am I dead?” He croaked.

“No, no, I don’t think so anyway. I think _you’re_ doing this,” he pushed Klaus back gently, testing the waters. “Look at you man, you’re levitating!”

“Shit!” He looked down at himself, startling, and falling down onto his back, still floating above the ground. “What in the world…” he moved his fingers through the space between his body and the floor, mesmerised.

“How’re you doing it?”

“I don’t know!” He was grinning ear to ear. He hit the ground with a thud, limbs splaying out spread-eagled on the carpet. “Damnit, what if I can’t do it again?”

“You probably just have to practise, here,” he offered Klaus a hand in getting up, not over the novelty of the fact that he could be touched again, interact with the world as if he were still living in it. Much to his dismay, his hand flickered into blue nothingness and passed through Klaus’. He sighed, “and you’ll have to practise the whole corporeal thing too.”

Klaus chuckled, which turned to full-blown laughter. He lay there on the carpet, looking up at the plaster ceiling, eyes brimming with tears, chest fluttering. The events of the previous night were hazy, but he knew there was something more to this new power, something had changed within him, and it was that same amalgam of fear and excitement that followed him when he wondered what.

He did know one thing, he still hadn’t managed to conjure Dave. It wasn’t over yet. He had to keep trying.

…

_1 day, 19 hours_

…

“Killed who? What is he talking about Five?”

 _Are you really going to let your mistake cost you the world? If you tell the truth, they won’t help you, they’ll scatter to the wind just like they did after you left the first time._ This lie, he knew it would tear him apart, and worse, what would it do to Klaus? There was no choice, none of them understood that he didn’t have a choice. The world came first… so why was the choice so hard? Why did he feel so terrible?

“I have no idea.”

…

The drive back from Harold Jenkins’ – or Leonard Peabody’s – house had every one of them sick to their stomachs. The psycho had some sort of murder shrine in his bedroom of defaced umbrella academy memorabilia; posters with the eyes scratched out, figurines with melted heads, black marker scribbles over magazine photoshoots, heads ripped off photographs, dented lunchboxes, burnt newspaper articles… it would have been disturbing under any circumstances. What made their stomachs churn, however, was the fact that this psychopath had their sister, and they had no idea where she was.

On top of all that, Five had another burden weighing down on his shoulders – what he’d done to Klaus. He didn’t want to think about where his brother was now, all he could do was hope that he would stay put at the academy until they got back, then he could put this right – or, as right as things could get in their current, sorry state.

“Wasn’t there another address listed on the police file?” Luther asked, trying to mediate the heavy, worried silence. Allison was driving, and Diego was next to her in the passenger seat still pouring over the file. Luther was squashed up in the backseat next to Five, who was only half listening to their conversation.

“Yeah, Grandma’s house, says it right here,” Diego muttered. They’d already discussed this, but anything to fill the silence was welcome, none of them wanted to think about where Vanya could be right now, what he could be doing to her. That second address would be their next move, but the others had insisted on going back to the academy on the way first to grab a few provisions – some weapons, some food. Normally, Five would have protested, would have urged them all to make haste, reminded them about how important it was that Harold Jenkins died before tomorrow, but he wanted to go back to the academy too. He had to make sure that Klaus was alright.

“God, I hope Vanya’s okay,” Allison whispered. Luther’s foot was tapping fervently against the floor, making the whole car shake. On any other occasion Five would have made some snarky comment, but he couldn’t muster it up, not now. He was torn between wanting to get to Vanya as soon as possible, and the terrible guilt eating him up about what he’d said to Klaus. He’d been hysterical, wailing, cowering on the floor, and he’d just left him there, they all had – but Five was the only one who knew that his distress was genuine, and that he had caused it. There it was again, that tug of war. Who would win; his duty to the world, and the man who’d suffered forty years alone in the ruins, or the boy he was now, who was coming to remember what having a family felt like after trying to forget for all those years.

They’d wasted a day between getting the police file, driving to Vanya’s apartment first, and then her ‘boyfriend’s’ house further out. For all they knew, this second address would be yet another dead end, and it was a fair drive too… time was running out.

…

_1 day, 18 hours_

They arrived back at the academy soon after, still stewing in their own silent hells, minds jumping to every worst possible conclusion in the absence of knowledge. None of them would forgive themselves if something happened to Vanya, especially since they turned her away the previous morning. If only Five had gotten back to the academy a little sooner…

Luther barred the way to the door as they all walked up the front steps. “Alright, let’s meet back here in five minutes, just the essentials, alright? Vanya needs us, and so does the world.” Diego scoffed, and for a moment Luther looked like he was going to rise to the bait, but he simply scowled and stepped away, letting them all pass. He was enjoying this far more than he should have been, Five realised, having the team back together again, barking orders, playing the leader, playing the hero. As soon as they were inside, Five jumped up to the top of the first landing and started bounding up the stairs to his room. Allison and Diego exchanged a worried glance, but decided not to question him.

What did he expect? That Klaus would still be lying there on the floor of his bedroom a day later? He had certainly seemed like he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

“Did you see where he went, Delores?” he asked. She was still lying there on the bed, smiling. “Yeah,” he nodded, "I was going to check there next.”

He made for Klaus’ bedroom, jumping through the wall and racing down the other end of the hall. He wasn’t there either, though he did seem to have trashed the place. Boxes had beed pulled out from under the bed, old bits of memorabilia, photographs, gifts from fans, old memories he’d tried to lock away. In the middle of the floor was a neon-pink ouija board, covered in silver writing and glitter. He remembered writing that message, they’d all tired their best to help Klaus through the worst of it – the nightmares, the cruel experiments – but they were never capable of truly understanding what he was going through. It seemed they hadn’t got much better since. Five could imagine how it had happened; Klaus, desolate and abandoned by his siblings, coming here to search for some semblance of the love he remembered. That’s when he saw a hastily scrawled note laying on the bed. He could barely make out Klaus’ curled, messy hand.

Gone to Vanya’s, if anybody cares – Klaus

It wasn’t like him to leave a note, he wondered what made him write one this time.

“Five?” It was Allison, calling from downstairs, “we’re ready to go, you coming?” He scrunched up the note and shoved it into his pocket, turning on the spot and vanishing in a swirl of light. Allison jumped as he appeared beside her. “Jesus Five!” She exclaimed, hand over her heart dramatically, “you can’t just do that to – Five?” She noticed his expression, pained and twisted with emotion. “You okay?” She reached out a hand to his shoulder, but he shrugged away, adding up the possibilities in his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of Klaus hurting himself, all alone in that apartment, far away from anything that would remind him of home, and the people who cared about him. Diego and Luther noticed the way he was acting, and they all crowded around. They were just trying to help, but Five couldn’t help but feel patronised. Sometimes he forgot, when they looked at him they didn’t really see him, they saw their little brother, as if he’d never left.

When he sighed, his breath caught in his throat. He felt tears rising, but he forced them down, shaking his head. “I need to tell you something.”

“Well, can it wait until we’re on the road.” Luther, now he was the one hurrying them along. Five scowled.

“Klaus isn’t here, is he?” He asked, one final time. The three of them exchanged a confused glance, shaking their heads.

“Shit,” he muttered, “I think he could be in trouble.”

“Isn’t he aways,” Diego chuckled.

Five shot him a look, “I’m serious, I did something to him that was… unforgivable. I’m worried about him.”

“Wait, are you talking about…” Allison puzzled, “he said you killed someone.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a long story. I told him and, he kinda flipped out.”

“Wait a second,” Diego said, “you’re telling me he wasn’t high back there?” There was anger behind his words, daring Five to confirm his suspicions.

He couldn’t meet their eyes. “No. Well, at least, not very.”

“Jesus, Five,” Diego muttered.

“So what,” Allison cried, “that was him –“

“Grieving.” The three of them were lost for words. He really felt like a kid now, caught in the act, no backing out now.

“I can’t” Luther muttered, breathless, “I mean, what the hell happened to make you kill this guy?”

Here it was. How the hell was he supposed to explain himself? “Klaus,” he paused, wondering how much he should divulge, “traveled back in time. He was gone for ten months, and none of you even noticed.”

“What?”

“How the hell did he travel back in time?”

“What are you talking about, Five?”

“Just be quiet!” He snapped. “It doesn’t matter how, just trust me, it happened. He was happy there, but we needed – I needed – him back here. I did what I do best. I eliminated a threat to the timeline.”

“So you killed his friend?” Said Allison, exasperated.

“Boyfriend, I think,” Five shrugged.

Luther looked around, confused, “wait, what? They ignored him.

“I killed him to force his hand. I crossed a line, I know, became as back as my employers, shaping time to their will. I thought that, after all the time I spent alone, that family didn’t matter to me anymore, that there were more important things. I was wrong.”

“Well that’s all very touching, Five, but we all left Klaus here in the middle of a full on break down,” Diego snarked. He’d always been so protective of Klaus, and now he’d left him alone in his grief.

“We need to go talk to him - God, he must feel so alone,” said Allison.

Luther butted in, reminding them all of their mission. “No, someone needs to go after Harold Jenkins.”

“And save Vanya.” Allison added.

“Exactly,” said Five, “I’ll go find Klaus, then I’ll bring him back here. We’ll catch up to you.”

“Are you sure, Five?” Luther asked, “you’re the expert on this whole apocalypse thing.”

Five smirked at him, “I’m sure I can trust the three of you to kill one man without my help.”

“Yeah, damn right you can,” Diego said, smirking proudly.

“Should one of us stay back and wait for you here, what if Klaus comes back while you’re gone?”

“Good idea Allison,” Luther grumbled, “you should stay here and be safe.”

“Wait, no,” she cried, “that wasn’t me nominating myself!”

“Yeah, the whole rumour thing is bound to come in handy.”

“I thought you weren’t using your power anymore.”

“I’ll use it on assholes that’ve kidnapped my sister.”

“Exactly, so why don’t you stay behind Luther.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He looked between the two of them in disbelief.

“No, thats a good idea,” Five muttered, much to Luther’s dismay.

“What about intimidating the enemy?” He cried.

“Is that a gorilla thing?” Diego mused, unsheathing one of the knives from his harness. Luther shot him a cold look. Allison put a preemptive hand on Luther’s shoulder, trying to prevent a fight.

“He’s right,” Five said, “we’ve gotta kill him fast, covertly if we can, Diego’s good for that.”

“Thank you,” Diego winked, spinning one of the knives around in his palm.

“Seriously,” Luther muttered, defeated.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Five reminded them, “because I’ll be back from the apartment with Klaus in no time, and we’ll meet up once you two have scoped the place out.”

“Fine,” muttered Luther.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook, Five,” Diego said, bitterness rising up, “what you did was fucked, I won’t pretend to understand the half of it.”

He nodded, “I’m well aware. We can all pay our dues once the apocalypse has been averted, how’s that?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Diego shrugged, “let’s go sis.”

“Hey,” Luther called, as the two of them turned to leave, “you look after her, ok Diego.”

“You got it, big guy.” He gave a half-hearted salute as he walked out to the entrance hall.

Allison nudged him playfully, “shut up you two.”

Once they were gone, Luther sighed, unsure of what to do with himself. “I’ll go through that police file again, keep looking through dad’s research, maybe I can find something.”

Five gave him an encouraging smile. “I won’t be long, Luther, be ready to leave.” Luther nodded, and made his way up the stairs, sending the old structure into a song of creaks and groans.

Five took a moment to collect himself. He had no idea what he could say to convince Klaus to come with him after what he’d done. All he had to do was convince him to accompany him back to the academy and out to meet Allison and Diego. He’d already accepted that Klaus would never forgive him, that he never should, but he needed Klaus by his side, they all did. Maybe that was just what he needed to hear right now.

…

_1 day, 17 hours_

Ben was starting to worry. There was something different about Klaus, a disquieting calmness. Last night he’d been hysterical, cowering in the corner of the room, lost in memories of the past; but now his fear was gone. Figures came and went, in varying states of tangibility, but they didn’t seem to bother Klaus in the slightest. He was just sitting there, quiet energy radiating, reaching further into farther dimensions than he ever had before.

“Come on Klaus,” he said, gently, “you’ve been sitting here for - what - four hours, you need to eat something, or at least move.”

“For the thousandth time Ben, I’m fine,” he muttered, “now shut up and let me concentrate.” He’d already gotten pretty good at levitating, he was floating about a foot above the ground now, bobbing up and down ever so slightly.

“Look, I know I’m the one who was encouraging you to do this, but now…” he watched him; the way the spirits weren’t attacking him anymore, weren’t trying to force down the walls of his sanity, because the walls had already fallen, Klaus had let them in. Ben couldn’t help but feel like a part of Klaus had died last night, and Ben had stood by and let it happen. Was it only his fear that was gone, or was it something more? “Now I’m not so sure,” he finished. Klaus ignored him, pressing his eyes shut defiantly.

There was a knock at the door, causing Ben to jump in surprise. Klaus didn’t even flinch. “Are you going to get that?” He asked, as Klaus continued to float, unperturbed.

“No need, I’m sure he’ll go ahead and let himself in anyway.”

“You don’t think it’s Vanya?” Ben asked. He could only hope that the others had managed to keep his sister safe.

“No,” Klaus muttered, finally opening his eyes. There it was again, that endless, uncaring blue – an intense, maddening light that swirled about his eyes. “It’s Five.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter, just getting everyone where they need to be for the chaos to unfurl :)


	5. And my brain is like an orchestra

He knocked again. No answer. He sighed, he really hadn’t wanted to intrude like this, but Klaus left him no choice. Just as he was about to teleport through the door, however, the lock clicked, and the door swung open gently. As soon as he took a step forwards, he knew something was wrong. The air felt cold, clustered. He could feel breath on his neck and eyes on his back, watching.

“Klaus?” He called, “you in here?”

“What are you doing here,” A voice croaked from the living room. Five walked through the entrance way and saw him sitting on the carpet, that old black patch-worked, fur-trimmed coat thrown over his otherwise bare chest. He looked like shit. The feeling was only getting stronger, shadows shifting in the corner of his eye, an incessant muttering in the background of every thought – he couldn’t possibly be imagining it.

“Actually I came to ask you if you were alright,” he said, eyes trained on the floor.

“Bit of a stupid question, wouldn’t you say little bro?” He wished he’d stop calling him that, but now wasn’t the time to argue.

“It occurs to me that I… I never apologised, for what I did, or for what I said.” Klaus didn’t answer. He just stared, silent, stony. “I told the other’s the truth, they all wanted to be here too but I told them it should be just me since this is… well it’s all my fault so…” he couldn’t find the right words, and all the while, those voices kept on growing. A twist of vertigo deep in his gut as he felt something large, something black, skulking through the air. “Look, I don’t do this sort of thing often, you know that,” what was it? It made his blood run cold and his eyes sting like he was staring into the sun. “I’m sorry. I know that won’t make anything better, and I know you won’t ever forgive me, I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for you to come back to the academy. Vanya’s in trouble and… Klaus, are you listening?” He’d starting grinning, chuckling to himself, staring off into the distance. His eyes snapped back to attention when Five stopped talking, a purposeful expression on his face.

“There’s just one thing, Five, one thing that doesn’t quite add up,” he smirked, feigning confusion. “How did you know I would never have come back? Hell, how did you even know where I was in time? I never told you where I served, never told you why I came back, you didn’t go back to your magical time travel agency until after I’d been back for hours so, my question is, how did you know?” Five shuffled from foot to foot, averting his eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious. “There’s something you’re not telling me here, isn’t there?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, “there is… something else.” He knew it would be easier if he just got it over with. This was his chance to get it all out in the open. No more secrets, no more lies. Let him think he was a monster, hell, he’d be right. It wasn’t as if there’d be a place for him in this world after the apocalypse had been averted. He didn’t belong here, with his family, with people living their lives. He belonged in the ruins, alone, wandering forever. Klaus was right about that, even though he hid in this body, the one his siblings remembered, Number Five had died a long time ago. “I know that you never would have come back because you never did, in another version of events at least. You never travelled back, and you lived your life in the past, for fifty years.” Five hesitated, trying to gauge his response. Nothing. Just that disquieting stare. “You were eighty, you were done with your life, you didn’t want to have anything to do with us, or with saying the world-“

“Was I happy?” His voice was soft, and so full of hurt, barely a whisper.

“I - I don’t know, Klaus, how would I know,” he sighed, defensive, dismissive.

“Well, was I with him?” A simple question, carrying the weight of the world. Five couldn’t bring himself to lie, not anymore.

He cleared his throat. “You were, I think... I think he would have passed away earlier this year… if I hadn’t...”

Again, Klaus chuckled to himself, as if that strained, hollow laughter was the only thing stopping him from going over the edge. “Just when I thought you couldn’t do anymore damage. Just when I thought I had nothing more left to lose. Turns out you didn’t just kill him, you killed me too.” And that feeling, there was no denying it now, a deep sickness in the air, wiling away at his senses, his sanity. Was it Klaus? His power had never felt this way when they were children. There’d always been a strangeness that followed him, a darkened edge, always one foot in the grave. This was different. It was powerful, maddening, Five could feel the vast emptiness of other worlds, other planes... it was suffocating.

“Look Klaus,” he pressed on, despite it all, pressing down. “I’m sorry, but that version events should never have happened in the first place. The fact of you being in that time – just for a few months – is bad enough, let alone a lifetime.” Tell him he should never have suffered. It didn’t change the fact that he had.

“You, on the other hand, can meddle with time as you please,” he quipped, still smirking. None of it seemed to bother him, the building noise in the back of Five’s throat, static behind he eyes as if he was about to pass out.

“Hate me, I don’t care, I deserve it.” He shook his head, trying to dispel the swarm, clear his eyes of those black shapes, taking form. “I would’ve travelled back further, killed him before you’d even met to save you the grief, but I arrived too late for that.”

Klaus made an exasperated face, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stood up, looking away, still laughing that hollow, grating sound. “That’s your fucking take away? Are you serious?”

This wasn’t going at all as planned, and Five was having a hard time forming thoughts at all. “I’m not asking you to do this for me, do it for the others - Diego, Allison, Luther,” he paused, “and especially Vanya.”

He stood, arms folded, indifferent. “And what makes you think I’d do anything for them?”

“They’re your family,” He spluttered, against the grain. He could’ve sworn there were hands reaching, wide eyes in the dark, silhouettes by the window.

He scoffed, “we were never a family, we were just a bunch of kids forced together, experimented on, then left to fend for ourselves.” The intensity kept on building. Five repressed the urge to double over, struggling to keep his footing - and all the while, Klaus stared, dark curls swaying in a nonexistent breeze. “I finally found a life that made me happy -“

“What the...” He stammered, stepping back. “Are you doing this?” He couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Klaus didn’t seem to hear. “You took it away,” he murmured, and Five could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. Five felt the air relinquish its grip for a moment, the tightness in his throat subsided, he could think – he could move.

He cleared his throat, trying not to let his fear betray him. “So, you’re not going to help, and if the world dies, let it, right Klaus?” He turned to and started walking back towards the door. “Just forget it, I’m leaving.”

The door swung shut in front of him, locks clicking back, barring his way. “You’re not going anywhere,” Klaus muttered. Five’s heart was racing. This was impossible, it was Klaus, he wasn’t capable of any of this.

“Excuse me?” He asked. Shaking his head, he braced to jump through the door, tensing his muscles, focusing his mind. Nothing happened. There was no reason for him to be out of energy, and yet he was powerless. A wave of nausea fell over him, magnified tenfold from what he had felt earlier. There were other people here, he was sure of it now, faces ebbed and flowed from his vision, cast in dark smoke. He turned to see Klaus, hovering a few inches above the ground, arms stretched out at his sides and balled into fists. Blue light emanated from his hands, two glowing beacons. The dead couldn’t resist.

“Klaus,” he cried, he felt hands grasping at his arms, nails digging into his skin, things that lurked just outside his vision. “What the hell is happening, what are you doing?”

“Listen to me!” He screamed. His voice carried the weight of dozens, hundreds, all piling on. Whispers and shouts tumbling over one another, speaking through one mouth. “you took him from me, the only person I’ve ever loved…” tears streamed from wide, blue eyes, blinding light that saw into all the farthest dimensions, the most twisted of spirits. Those eyes saw more than any mind could comprehend without unravelling. “You took my whole life!”

Five couldn’t stand anymore, his head was spinning, ears ringing as a thousand voices joined his own inside his head. The figures began to solidify, gory things, covered in blood and disease and anger. They tore at him, pulled him down to the floor. All of Klaus’ hatred, his anger, his grief – they were channeling it. All the while that noise kept building, and though he pressed his eyes shut the faces followed, dead eyes staring from behind his eyelids. Was this what it felt like to go insane? “Klaus!” He screamed, but his brother was too far away, staring into another world.

Klaus kept on muttering, an incessant ostinato, reminding himself of who he was, lest he lose himself to the spirits that used him. _He killed him, he killed him, he killed him/none of them care, none of them even notice/pity, pity, pity, that’s all they have for you/the child’s what they see in you/make him pay, make him pay._

Five was barely aware of his body anymore, beaten black and blue, skin mushed and purple against cracked bones, skin swollen around the eyes, nose dripping hot blood. He tried to jump away, but he couldn’t concentrate over the voices, unrelenting, until another voice joined the fray. “Klaus!” It cried, a strange coherency to it that separated it from the others. “Stop it! Please, stop, you’re hurting him, can’t you see, he’s going to die!”

Klaus kept on muttering, Five could still make out his voice among the others, leading. _Shut up, shut up/don’t listen/he deserves it._

“Klaus, please, what’s happening to you? I can’t let you do this!” It sounded so familiar, such a calming thing to hear as he drifted off…

Something must have interrupted Klaus’ concentration, because Five regained a fraction of lucidity, enough for the pain to come flooding back to reality, enough to pull him back to his thoughts. There was a figure standing behind Klaus, pulling his arms back, holding him as he struggled and cried. Five only saw their face framed in a fleeting second of clarity. In his delirium, he couldn’t be sure whether he’d only seen what he wanted to, but he could’ve sworn it was Ben. Regardless, it gave him the time he needed to escape, a relinquishment of the tide that held him in place. He relaxed his mind, his aching body, and disappeared into the fabric of space, reappearing a dizzying moment later on the other side of the door. Despite his protesting bones, he ran. It was the only thing he could think about, getting as far away from that place as possible before it pulled him in again.

It was a fair way back to the academy, but all the way, he kept on running. Running and jumping, running and jumping - a few metres, a few blocks, whatever he could manage. People stared as he stumbled; a kid, bloody and bruised, staggering down the sidewalk. He pressed on, anything to stop that ringing in his ears, anything to push that image of Klaus from his mind.

When he finally came upon the academy steps, he barely had the energy to stand, let alone teleport. He knocked on the door with as much strength as he could muster, and within moments Luther answered it. He must have been waiting for him to come back, eager to get on with the mission.

“Five!” He exclaimed, as he saw his brother, beaten and broken, eyes barely open. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

“K-Klaus,” was all he managed to say before the pain and exhaustion became too much to bear, and he collapsed into Luther’s arms, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, and that this chapter is pretty short :/


	6. Playing on

_1 day, 17 hours_

Vanya was in the hospital waiting room when Diego found her. She was on edge, playing the events of the previous night over and over in her head. That anger, that fear, building and building as the noise of the engine rattled and roared, consuming her, filling her with energy and then... spilling over. Surging out in a tidal wave. She wished she had her pills, something to take away the tumultuous emotions she was feeling, the guilt, the fear, her shameful sense of pride at what she was, what she’d been all along. Special. She wished she could make it stop.

“Vanya!” She turned to see him, Diego, jogging down the hall in that ridiculous vigilante get up. What the hell was he doing here? “Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

He sounded out of breath, and scared. It wasn’t often that her brother showed fear. “I’m fine.” She said, taken aback. “Diego, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Allison and I were on our way to get you when I picked up the report on my radio, something about an attack at a bar close by, the description sounded like you so I came right away. We have to get you back to the academy, now.”

“W-wait a minute, why were you coming to get me? You guys didn’t want anything to do with me yesterday.”

“Yeah well, that was before we found out your boyfriend is a psycho murderer.”

“What!” She exclaimed. Then it all made sense. Allison was trying to play big sister again, and now she’d roped in her over-protective brothers as well. “Is Allison the one doing this? She needs to get off my case, god I can’t believe you guys.”

Diego looked puzzled. “You mean, he hasn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, of course not. He was just taking me out on a trip to the lake. We went out for dinner last night and got jumped by some crazies and…” She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no denying it now, though, she had power, power that she didn’t understand let alone know how to control.

“But the police report said two of them were dead. You telling me that wasn’t him?”

“No it was... I don’t remember okay. But I’m fine, I don’t need to go back to the city. I need to stay with Leonard, he hasn’t woken up yet and I…” She trailed off, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of his room.

“Vanya, look.” Diego held out a file brimming with paperwork, stamped with the name Harold Jenkins. Skeptical at first, she took a closer look. It was Leonard, he’d been released from prison just a few months ago.

Diego went on to tell her about what they’d found in his house. The old umbrella academy memorabilia, scratched out eyes, melted heads. All the while, Vanya could feel that power building inside her, and she struggled to keep it pushed down. The rows of fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered and faltered, dimming the clinical white of the hospital hall. The air felt heavy, alive, answering to her emotions. “We thought he was going to hurt you,” Diego continued, "and Five says that this guy right here,” he pointed at Leonard’s unflattering mugshot, “is going to cause the apocalypse.”

“Ok but Five is-“ She felt awful saying it. When they were kids, they’d tell each other everything, but what Five had confided in her that night had been, well, insane. “He’s deranged. He says he’s been alone for nearly fifty years, and he’s clearly not himself right now.”

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but you’ve missed a lot these past few days.”

“Right, and who’s fault is that? I’m the one who’s a liability.”

“Look,” he smirked, averting her gaze, “I’m sorry Vanya, but you need to trust me now. Allison is back at Jenkins’ grandma’s house, we split up to try and find you. You should head there right away, I’ve got something I need to do.” Diego looked off in the direction that Vanya had glanced over at earlier. She wondered what he was thinking of doing.

“Where’s Five now?”

“He said he’d meet us here with Klaus and Luther, but I don’t think they expected us to find you so fast. I’ll tell them to hold off if they haven’t left yet, save them the trouble. There a phone somewhere here?” She pointed him towards the wall-mounted landline just outside the waiting room. He went over and dialled the number of the academy while Vanya stood against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She clutched the police file in her hand, the grainy mug shot of the man she’d been coming to love clipped to the front. Harold Jenkins... she couldn’t believe it. Even if he was a murderer, he’d been thirteen, that didn’t mean he still wanted to hurt people now. It made sense for him to want a fresh start after all that. She herself had often wondered if she should shed the Hargreeves name, given the infamy and memories, associated with it.

Vanya heard a deep, muffled voice on the other end - Luther. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Five? What about him,” Diego muttered, “shit.”

The urgency in his voice piqued Vanya’s attention. “What? What is it?” She leant closer to the receiver and managed to make out Luther’s words.

“Is that Vanya?” He asked.

“Yeah, we got her, she’s safe.”

“Thank god,” he sighed.

“We’ll be there soon, okay big guy? Mom knows her stuff, he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “just be here, okay?” Diego hung up, and turned to see Vanya looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

“It’s Five,” he said, already barging past her. “He’s hurt, b-bad.”

“Shit. What happened?” She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again, despite how strange and distant he’d been since he’d come back.

“I don’t know, Luther didn’t say but I’ll bet it has something to do with this incoming apocalypse.” His movements were rapid, pacing and twitching around on the spot. He was worried. “I’m going to get Allison from the house and we’re going back to the academy. You’re coming too.” There was no arguing with him, she realised. But she was still going to try.

“I’m not just going to leave Leonard here!”

“Harold.” He reminded her, impatient.

“I don’t care! He’s... I...”

“You what.” _I love him_. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Listen, you don’t think he was trying to use you to get close to us? He wants us dead, Vanya, all of us. He doesn’t love you.” She whimpered, and for a moment Diego looked like he might apologise, then his mouth hardened into a line and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, Five needs us.”

…

They caught a taxi up to the house, which Vanya had to pay for. Despite all his conspicuous pockets, Diego only seemed to carry knives. Allison came running out of the house as the taxi pulled up the driveway, and she tackled Vanya with a force almost enough to knock her over as Allison pulled her into a hug.

“Oh Vanya, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Err, thanks Allison. I’m fine, though, you don’t have to –“ she pulled back from her sister’s embrace, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“We need to get going, now,” Diego muttered, clambering out of the taxi. He gave the driver a dismissive wave, and he started pulling out of the driveway, looking bewildered. “Five’s hurt.”

“What!” Allison cried, over-acting as always. She nodded, composing herself. “Well I’ve found something too,” she pulled a familiar red book out from behind her. “Dad’s journal.”

“What the hell was it doing here?” Vanya asked, but she already knew. Just another nail in the coffin. Leonard had been using her, and the one thing in her life she thought was her own, had really been about the umbrella academy. It was always about the umbrella academy.

“So he was reading up on us, getting to know our weaknesses.” He glared at Vanya, “between this and your autobiography he’d have quite the arsenal.”

Allison shot him a dangerous look. “We can work all this out in the car, we need to get back to the academy.’

As the other two moved towards the vehicle, Vanya remembered something. “Wait,” she called, “I need my violin.”

“Already in the trunk,” Allison smiled, “let’s go.”

…

Vanya sat in the backseat on the ride back to the city, during which Diego and Allison were uncharacteristically quiet. She poured over the pages of her father’s journal, that elongated, scrawled hand of his. He was always scribbling in this book, writing down times during her sibling’s exercises, taking measurements, scrawling notes about observations from his latest experiments. She wasn’t featured on many of the pages, which was to be expected, of course, but at the beginning of the book, the notes that were taken early in her childhood, many of her father’s entries were entitled ‘Number 7.’

_June 5th, 1990_

_Number 7 may be responsible for some low-level phenomena. Minute changes in temperature and malfunctioning electrical appliances. Strong aversion to noisy environments. She is the first of the subjects to show any promise._

Ever since she was a child, and she’d been the most “promising” of them all.

_July 23rd, 1992_

_Incredible, simply incredible! Number 7 continues to show heightened brain function and response to audio stimulus. Her potential is unmatched by that of the other subjects –_

She kept on flicking through, not knowing how to feel. All her life, she’d been lied to. Was she really that dangerous?

_August 2nd, 1993_

_Number 7 continues to excel in her training, though her childish temperament is less than ideal. She is beginning to understand and hone her powers, using them for her personal gain. It is only natural, but if I cannot contain her, she may prove… problematic._

_October 4th, 1994_

_That’s the third one dead this week. The hiring agency is beginning to ask questions, and I fear that it’s only a matter of time before the girl turns on me as well. She has little interest in my guidance, and the child is unruly, distant, even among her siblings._

She was a killer, ever since she was four years old… she shuddered to think of what she was capable of now. She’d only been off her medication for a few days, and already she felt this power deeply-rooted inside her, laying dormant all these years. It was hungry.

_January 12th, 1995_

_I have constructed a chamber that renders Number 7 powerless. The environment causes the girl much discomfort. The disconnect from her abilities makes her agitated and sickly. Her power is too great for me to contain. I have been developing a counter measure, a medication that should help to level her head – thought it will have side-effects._

She’d been living with those effects as long as she could remember. That feeling like the world was moving too fast, the numbness in her brain, the exhaustion, the quiet misery she never quite understood… it was because a part of her was missing.

_September 7th, 1995_

_Number 7 has been sedated these past few months, and so far has shown no sign of her usual abilities. She is far quieter now, subdued. It may become necessary to increase her dosage as she develops. I must keep the girl, though she will likely be of no further use to me. I must be watchful of her, in the hands of others her power could be let loose, and the results could be… cataclysmic._

The passage was circled in red marker. Leonard.

_October 1st, 1999_

_Without her powers, Number 7 has no discernable talents. Some enthusiasm for music, but mediocre skill – can barely even hobble through a Paganini caprice. Utterly useless._

And that was it, the final entry, after four years of silence. Vanya felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn’t noticed it as she’d been reading, but the sky outside had turned from sunny blue to grey. Rain was trickling down, spotting the windows with clear droplets, as did the tears on her cheeks. Leonard, Harold – she reminded herself – had planned to use her like some sort of weapon, and she’d fallen for it. Who knows what would have happened if Diego hadn’t found her when he did, before Harold had a chance to whisk her away again. She had to talk to Five, he’d know what to do, he always did.

…

_1 day, 16 hours_

“Five, oh god, Five!” She yelled, seeing him laying there, it kicked her mind into high-gear. He looked so small on the surgical bed, flesh blue and swollen. Grace stood beside him, a crisp apron strung around her waist, and a tray of intricate metal tools balanced on one of her arms.

She smiled, despite the situation. “Hello there, Vanya, so lovely to see you.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” She stood over him, trying to see whether his chest was rising and falling, if only gently.

“He’ll make it,” Grace said, suddenly sombre.

“Oh thank god.” She whispered, sitting down in a plastic chair beside the bed, head in her hands. Luther was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, head down. Allison stepped over to stand behind Vanya and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Who the hell did this to him?” Diego asked, “those psychopaths that attacked the house?”

“I, err,” Luther muttered, shuffling from foot to foot. “Five said that it was… Klaus.”

“Excuse me?” Allison said, glaring over at him.

“I’m not sure if that’s what he meant, but just before he collapsed at the doorstep, I asked him who did this to him and he said it was Klaus.”

“How the hell did Klaus do this? He can’t even walk in a straight line, and his arms are like noodles!”

“Yes Diego,” Allison sighed, “we know you work out.”

“All I’m saying is, maybe he got attacked on the way there, or maybe it was a trap.”

“He went to talk to Klaus, who was already pissed with him, and for good reason too. It makes sense.”

Diego scoffed, “It doesn’t make any sense,” he hissed, “Klaus wouldn’t do this.”

“Grace says he should be awake soon, we can ask him then.” Luther said, trying to keep everyone calm. Grace perked up at the sound of her name, looking between them with that vacant smile.

“You’ve done a great job, Mom,” Diego grinned, his voice soft all of a sudden. “Five would’ve died without your help.” Grace smiled lovingly.

“Can we really believe what he says, I mean, he killed an innocent man, a man that Klaus loved. Should we really be on his side here?” Allison asked. It was something they’d all been trying not to think about; what Five had done. He kept on telling them that he’d changed during his decades alone, that he’d killed countless people, but it was all so easy to ignore when he looked the way that he did, like their kid brother.

“There aren’t any sides here, we’re family, and we’re going to help one another.” Luther said, trying his best to keep the peace.

Vanya wasn’t following the conversation at all, but she was used to that sort of treatment when among her siblings. Out of the loop, never included. She gasped, however, as she saw Five’s eyes flicker open.

“Anyone care what I have to say about this?” He muttered, voice groggy and heavy in his throat.

Vanya seemed to be the only one that was genuinely pleased. Diego only looked relieved for a moment, before he donned his signature scowl. “Not really, no.”

Five rolled his eyes. He tried to sit up but the attempted action made his vision swim before him. He decided against it. “Fair enough,” he grumbled, "did you kill Harold Jenkins?”

“Wait, what!” Vanya interjected, looking at Five in shock.

“Oh,” he smiled, "hi Vanya. So yeah, did you kill him or not?”

Diego looked down at the floor. “No,” he murmured, resembling a kid caught in the act of some trivial transgression.

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“I thought getting here was a little more important, Luther made it sound like Five was dying!”

“I was,” he muttered, "but that’s no excuse, I’ll remind you we’re talking about the fate of the world here.”

"I – I might know something about that, actually.” Vanya said, softly. “I think that I… I have powers.”

The others hesitated for a moment, and Vanya was afraid that they were going to laugh. “Oh, come on,” Diego sighed, putting a hand to his brow. Luther gave her an awkward smile, and Allison gave her shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“Hey, let her finish,” Five snapped. He turned his eyes to her (still being unable to turn his head).

“I was reading Dad’s journal in the car and,” she looked over at Five, unsure of whether to continue. They were all staring, it was difficult to form words. He gave an encouraging, minute nod. “It said that I had powers all along, but they were too dangerous so he… the pills… they’re meant to stop them.”

“You’re serious?” Luther asked.

She nodded, staring down at the floor. “It’s not just that. I’ve been off my meds these past few days and weird stuff has started happening. I feel different, for a start. I got angry at you all and the lamp posts on the street started bending, I think I can control the weather and… last night…”

Diego was looking at her, wide-eyed. “You killed those guys?”

“I – I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. She looked around at the others, hoping she wouldn’t find fear, or disbelief. “they were attacking me and… him.” She couldn’t say his name.

“What kind of power is it anyway, cataclysmic violin playing?” Diego chuckled, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know, like telekinesis or something.” She muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Telekinesis.” Luther considered, “of the world ending variety?”

“If it was something that Dad was too scared to deal with,” Five replied, “I’m thinking quite possibly.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “You guys said that Le – Harold,” the name brought a bitter taste to her mouth, “had some sort of murder shine in his house, so I thought… maybe he was trying to, I don’t know, use me or something… to hurt you. He was always more invested in developing my powers than I was, and he knew things about them that… I should have noticed. God, I’m so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Vanya,” Allison said, kindly. Vanya didn’t like to admit it, but sometimes she liked it when Allison played the role of big sister.

“How dangerous are these powers exactly, are you on the pills now?” Luther asked, suddenly stepping forwards from the shadows.

“No.” She admitted, wringing her hands, agitated. Taking them again would feel like failure to her, it would be like letting her father win.

“Should you be?”

“No,” she insisted, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “I can control it, I can, I just…”

“It’s okay Vanya, I know this must be scary for you.” Five murmured. Vanya smiled gratefully. “And, if this is true, then it could mean that Harold Jenkins can no longer cause the apocalypse.”

“What, really?” Luther said, puzzled.

“I don’t know, but the way I see it, without Vanya, he won’t be able to do anything.”

She hadn’t wanted to believe it, that she was capable of something like that, the apocalypse.“So you really think that I was going to–“

“I don’t know. And, if you were, then I know you would never have done it on purpose, okay?” Said Five. She could tell that he was in pain. His eyes were watering with the strain of it all. “Just stay here, you’ll be safer with me if he decides to come after you.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“What do you want us to do, Five?” Luther asked. He didn’t seem comfortable with it, asking for leadership.

“Frankly, Luther, I don’t care,” he quipped. “Wait, no,” he reconsidered, “keep tabs on this Harold Jenkins guy, tell this police about his false identity if they haven’t caught up with him in the hospital already.”

“What about Klaus?” Diego asked. “Was he really the one that did this to you?”

Five closed his eyes, “he was.” There was a murmur of discordance from around the room.

“Wait, wait, we’re talking about our brother Klaus, right?” Vanya murmured, though she knew she wasn’t going to get answers for a while yet.

“He’s dangerous, believe me. His powers are stronger now.”

“So, he can see… more dead people?” Allison offered, just as confused as the rest of them.

“No, he can manifest dead people, physically. Actually they’re the ones that did this.” He gestured vaguely to his beaten body. One of his arms was strapped in a splint, and his eyes were barely visible beyond the swollen, blackened flesh surrounding.

“So he summoned a bunch of dead people to beat the shit out of you, damn. Good for him.”

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“What, he deserved it,” Five nodded solemnly to Diego’s assertion, “it doesn’t make things even, but maybe Klaus will feel better about coming back to the academy now that he’s taken Five down a notch,” he glanced over Five lying helplessly on the bed, “or ten.”

“It’s more than that though, he didn’t seem fully in control. It was scary, he was levitating off the ground, his eyes went all blue, the air felt like it was going to suffocate me, and I heard things… he needs our help but I’m worried that he’s becoming too dangerous. We need more information before we can confront him again.”

“I’ve got Dad’s journal,” Vanya offered, “there’s bound to be something in there.”

“I’ll find Pogo, he’ll be able to help,” Luther added. Vanya wondered if Pogo knew about her powers too. She was willing to bet that he did, it cast all that comfort he gave her, as a child and just a few days ago during the funeral, in a darker light. What did he have to say for himself?

One by one, they shuffled out, leaving Five and Vanya alone.

“Do you think Klaus is scared, by his power I mean. It’s terrifying, finding out you can do something like that, hurting people… even though you don’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry Vanya, and I’m sorry for Klaus too. Let’s be honest, Dad probably messed you two up most of all, except maybe for Ben, but, well…”

“Have a read,” she stood up beside him and adjusted the bed so he was sitting up. She handed him the open book. “Everything we need to know’s in here.” He nodded gratefully, and began to skim over the notes.

Vanya sighed and moved over to the cabinets lining the walls. Harold may have gotten rid of her own supply of medication, but she knew her father must have kept some lying around. Sure enough, she found a row of dusty jars at the back of the cabinet. She unscrewed the lid, already feeling ashamed that she couldn’t do this on her own, couldn’t control the power that was building inside of her. It was too much, seeing Five injured, reading her father’s words, and Klaus… One, two, three. She had to feel numb to this, otherwise she thought her heart might explode right out of her chest. Is this how Klaus felt, that dependency, amplified a thousand times over? She wondered what he was feeling right now. Was it guilt, or fear? Or was he past that entirely, twisted into some other person by the power lying dormant within. That’s what Vanya feared most as she downed the pills, losing herself, destroying the people she loved – just like Klaus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Klaus in this Klaus fic. I felt it was important to compare the perspectives of Klaus and Vanya while also getting Vanya and her power trip out of the way so that Klaus can step forwards and wreck their shit :))


	7. Insane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Que sera, sera."

_1 day, 9 hours_

“Dave?” The world was dark again, that endless black void, the only place that was ever silent. After Five had escaped, Klaus had felt drained from his outburst. Ben tried to comfort him, but that comfort came with a sense of unease, of fear. He couldn’t shake the image from his mind; Five, beaten to a pulp, staring back at him just before he’d teleported away, eyes wide with fear. It was better than pity.

“Dave, please, I need you.” It was fruitless searching. The only one here was him. His voice, alone with his thoughts, alone in a way he’d never known before. He’d been so angry, all he could think about was his grief, that insurmountable sadness, and Five, the root of it all. _He deserved it_ , he reminded himself, though he knew his siblings wouldn’t see it that way. He wondered if he could ever show his face at the academy again. _I don’t care_ , he told himself, but he knew it wasn’t true.

“I did this for you, I just wanted to see you…” _Lie_. He was enjoying this new power, the way it made him feel. The voices were his to command, they didn’t attack, they obeyed. All this power, and he couldn’t do the one thing he’d set out to do. The vengeful spirits were plentiful, they were always there, watching, waiting for an opportunity to come out of the shadows, to use Klaus as a gateway. It was the others that were more difficult to conjure. The more twisted they were, the more easily they came, the shallower their place in neighbouring dimensions. Dave wasn’t like them. He hoped he wasn’t like them.

He saw a silhouette rise up in the distance, a familiar shape. A flash of light, and they were inches apart. Dave. He looked just as Klaus remembered him. Strong, beautiful, but something was missing. There was no bullet hole through his chest, and his eyes seemed empty. He wasn’t smiling, no upturned corner of the mouth, no light in the eyes that said he was glad to see him.

“Klaus,” he said, staring right through him. His voice was hollow.

“Dave?” He whimpered, tears already falling. He reached out a trembling hand to his chest, the same way he’d done on the battlefield, illuminated by distant explosions, blood pouring out of him, life spilling through his fingers. “Oh god, Dave, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His hand brushed his skin, put he couldn’t touch him, his fingers passed right through. He pressed his other hand over his mouth, grasping.

“Look at you,” Dave murmured. An amalgam of voices spoke behind his, taunting. _It’s not real._ But he couldn’t bring himself to leave him here. “You’re pathetic.” The words cut into him, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

“Dave, please, please,” his mutterings turned incoherent, his knees weakened and buckled. He knelt, and Dave looked down. Pity.

“It’s your fault, all of it.”

“No, please don’t, please don’t,” he put his head to the floor, between his elbows. The ground was cold, infinite.

“Your brothers and sisters will never forgive you for what you did to me.” Klaus looked up to see Five. The little brat had his signature smirk plastered over his face. That uniform, he wore it like he’d never left, like nothing had ever changed. “They’ll never understand, they’ll never even believe you. Oh, the things you see,” he grinned, looking up at the dark sky, hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Don’t you want to help us see them too?”

“I – I just wanna see Dave,” he said.

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Because you’ve always been weak.” Luther.

“A mess.” Diego.

“Never successful.” Allison.

“Never even a person.” Vanya.

“There are worlds other than these, and only we know,” Ben. Not really him, _not really any of them_.

“We can show them.” He was staring at himself, a colder version, hollowed out by the spirits. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore, don’t you want to show them what it’s like?”

Klaus felt his stomach turn as he was wrenched back to reality. He was laying on the carpet in Vanya’s apartment, still in the same place, as if the past day hadn’t changed everything. Ben was still there, lurking in the corners of his vision. “Klaus!” He exclaimed, noticing his lucidity. He grabbed Klaus by the shoulders and hauled him up to a sitting position. He was enjoying being able to interact with the world again, even if he couldn’t stray far from Klaus’ side. It came at a price, though, and it tore Ben apart having to watch his brother slip away piece by piece. “I made you some lunch,” he offered, “and I mean proper lunch, not dry noodles in a sandwich,” he forced a chuckle, but it was hard to pretend he didn’t notice the way Klaus was shaking, gripping his arms with white-knuckled hands, staring at nothing with far-away eyes.

“I can fix this,” he muttered. Ben was already concerned. Klaus’ ideas were getting stranger and more terrifying by the hour, and the spirits he was starting to drag around with him were ancient, twisted things. They were changing him.

“What do you mean – hey wait! What are you doing?” Klaus seemed oblivious to Ben as his eyes glazed over, piercing blue. Ben was pushed away, forced down into the ether as Klaus sat, digging even deeper into himself and his power.

…

_1 day, 8 hours_

  
Allison had gone to talk to the police about Harold Jenkins and his alter ego, and Luther was talking to Pogo, monkey business that Diego didn’t want to be involved in. He would have tagged along with Allison if the entire city precinct didn’t think he’d murdered Eudora Patch. He felt useless, pottering around this old house, remembering all the terrible years he spent here. He heard voices coming from Five’s old bedroom, and a muffled, scraping sound. It was probably Mom, cleaning, even at a time like this, when their family was coming apart. He needed to talk to her. Only she could ever make him feel at ease.

When he pushed the door open, however, it wasn’t his mother at all. “Five, you okay?” He asked. Five was scuffling on the floor on his hands and knees. His body seemed limp and feverish, limbs bent at odd angles like some sort of puppet. What was he doing out of bed? This kid was too resilient for his own good.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it?” He muttered, words rapid and tripping over one another.

“Five!” He yelled, which seemed to get his attention. The boy turned to the source of the noise, and that’s when Diego knew for certain that something was wrong. His eyes were wide, blocked out in piercing blue. It clouded around his eyes in a bright mist, swimming and shifting. He blinked, and it was gone. His eyes were their usual pale green, but frantic, wild. Diego was left wondering if he had imagined it all. “Five?” He asked again, voice soft, shocked. He sprung into action. “Five, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He was kneeling by his brothers side in seconds. The boy was shaking uncontrollably, near convulsing as sweat pooled on his face, skin fiery hot to the touch. “What’s happening to you.”

“There!” Five exclaimed, breaking away form Diego’s grip with surprising strength. “I need it, the briefcase, I need to fix this.” His voice was layered with eerie whispers, as if a hundred people were talking at once. He grabbed the battered case from under the bed and began fiddling with a series of nonsensical dials underneath the handle. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing, and his movements were quick and desperate, more like muscle spasms than deliberate actions. His fingers looked like they were about to break.

“Woah there little guy, you’re not fixing anything. Remember what happened last time? You can’t just go back in time and run from this... Five?” He wasn’t listening, his movements were becoming increasingly erratic, chest wracked with strangled breaths. His skin was pale and quivering, as if something was crawling beneath it. He slammed the case down against the floorboards and started pounding it with his fists in frustration. He sobbed, face screwed up, angry tears streaming.

Diego grabbed him by the shoulders, a little rougher then he’d intended. “Five, what the hell is wrong with you?” He had no idea how to help him, he’d never seen Five so worked up.

“It won’t work!” He screamed, and Diego could barely make out Five’s voice in amongst the others. “I need to, I need to…” The eyes were back, fluorescent blue and maddening. Five simply stared, head cocked, body quivering in Diego’s arms. Suddenly, his hand reached up, slow, stilted motions, as if it were fighting against the rest of him just to move. The hand tore at Diego’s shirt, desperate. He was burning up, skin slick with sweat, hair pasted to his forehead. Five was still muttering, even as his hand clamped down on the floorboards and he started scratching into the wood with his nails. “I need to go back, I need to fix this, why can’t I go back, why, why, why would you do this to me?” He scratched at the wood so hard that his nails chipped and broke away, splinters in his fingers, drips of blood. Diego was horrified, and would have pulled his hand away until he noticed he was carving a word into the wood.

“Talk to me Five, who did this?" His brother continued to look past him, as if he couldn’t see at all. His hand reached up again, clawing at Diego’s shoulder. He looked down at what was written there. Klaus.

“Klaus?” He asked, even though he couldn’t quite believe it. He knew that Klaus had hurt Five, and he couldn’t exactly blame him. Five had mentioned something about Klaus’ powers becoming stronger – but this? It was Klaus, he wasn’t capable of this sort of thing. Five’s eyes lit up with recognition at the sound of the name, and he looked at Diego properly now. That blue light burned itself into his vision, and there was something familiar about it. He felt his brother staring back, and he knew – “Klaus?” he asked again, softer this time, because it was him, somehow. “Is that you in there?” He couldn’t believe this, he was… using Five somehow, trying to travel back in time.

“D-Diego,” he was struggling to speak, and the words came out in waves, voices tumbling over others, but Klaus’ was there among them too, leading.

“What are you doing?” he said, gently as he could. He knew how vulnerable his brother was right now, alone and broken, and this power… “You need to come back to the house, okay? We need to talk.” Five’s body was still shaking, burning, convulsing. He wondered if what Klaus was doing was killing him.

“You don’t know… what he did,” he muttered, soft and haunting.

He sighed, because it was horrible, this whole mess. “I do. Five told us, Klaus, we believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t, I’m sorry I never do.”

“No… he took my life,” Five’s body shivered and collapsed against Diego’s chest, going limp, “I need to go back,” he sobbed.

“Please, Klaus,” he said with urgency, “you’re going to kill him if you keep this up, you need to get out, okay? Come back here yourself. I promise we’ll talk then.”

“I can’t… stay,” the voices were coming apart, they bounced around the room, sounding from inside Diego’s head, deafening. “too weak, I’m not… strong enough, not… yet.”

“Come on Klaus, let him go, alright?” He pulled Five’s body off of him, holding him at arm’s length. Klaus nodded, and Five’s eyelids closed over that blue mist. A trickle of blood seeped from his nose as the voices fled, and silence filled the room again. Five’s eyes opened abruptly, drawing in a sharp, desperate breath. “Five?” Diego asked, clutching him tightly.

“Shit,” was all he said, as he doubled over and vomited all over the floor.

He put a hand on his back supportively, “you okay there?”

He sat up, still shivering uncontrollably. He wiped the puke from his mouth, sitting back with a hand on his head, massaging his temples. “Funnily enough, no” he quipped, and Diego knew he was back to his usual self.

“What the fuck was that about? Klaus can possess people now?”

Five’s voice caught in his throat with every word, and his voice was small and haggard. “Apparently so. I think Klaus can do a whole lotta things we didn’t know about.”

“But why now?” Their father had tried so hard to break him when they were kids, always pushing him to the limit, but all he did was force Klaus further back into himself.

“My guess, he’s trying to contact the person I… the one he lost. He’s more sober now than he’s been since he was twelve, he’s embracing his powers for the first time and… maybe there’s more to him than any of us knew.”

“Do you think Dad knew?” Diego asked, standing up. He offered a hand to Five to help him back on his feet. His face was still bruised and bloodied by what Klaus had done to him earlier, and now this… his brother had seen better days.

“Only one way to find out,” he grumbled, taking Diego’s hand and rising to a stand. “We’ll have to keep reading through the journal. I’ll admit I didn’t get far before exhaustion got the better of me.” Diego nodded and went to put an arm around Five’s shoulders. “I can walk, Diego,” he snapped.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, backing away. He turned to leave just as Five attempted to take a step. He crumpled to the floor straight away, making a deafening thud against the floorboards (and the vomit all over them).

“Okay,” he murmured, “maybe I can’t w…” his eyes rolled to whites as he slumped over, unconscious.

…

“What’s wrong with him,” Vanya cried, as Diego lumbered in with a barely-conscious Five stumbling by his side. He’d come to again in a minute or so, but he was still certifiably out of it.

“Klaus… again,” he spluttered. With Diego’s help, he slung himself onto the bed. Grace was there moments later, and unprompted, began readying her medical supplies.

“Guys, there’s some vomit upstairs, what the hell is that ab– Five!” Allison exclaimed, catching sight of him on the bed. “What were you doing out of bed?”

“I – I must have fallen asleep and then I looked and he was gone,” Vanya stammered. Luther came bounding in a moment later with a similar reaction. All the while, Five was slipping in and out of consciousness, eyes rolling into whites as he struggled to focus on their faces.

“Will you all just listen… for one… second,” he struggled to get the words out, everything was spinning. “Klaus just possessed me,” an uproar or exclamation and disbelief, “just sssshhhhhhh!” he hissed, impatient. They all fell silent. “Klaus. Possessed me. He tried to use me to operate the briefcase, fortunately he has no idea what he’s doing, and won’t be able to reactivate it and fuck up the timeline any more than it has been already.”

“Well, is he nearby, can’t we talk to him?” Vanya asked.

“I don’t know. And I think that talking would be a pretty bad idea at the moment. I felt him, inside my head…” It had been maddening, and he’d only been half-conscious throughout, desperate, clawing for Diego, begging him to see him, to understand. Those voices again, far louder than they’d been back at Vanya’s apartment. The part of Klaus that had made its way inside him had been desperate beyond belief, and the pain… the grief was unbearable, and not just for Dave, for everything. For his life, for his power, for all the years he’d wasted running, barely alive. “Now that he knows he can’t get to the briefcase, I’m worried about what he might try next.”

“You don’t think…” Allison trailed off. None of them wanted to consider it.

“That he’d make me hurt myself, kill myself, yeah, I do.” He nodded, staring around at all of their solemn faces. "You have to realise, he’s not himself anymore. Those voices, the things that I saw, I only felt that for a moment but he’s living it, it’s taking him apart piece by piece.”

“What are you suggesting, Five,” Luther asked.

“I’m suggesting you keep me tied to this hospital bed over night, it’s not like I’ll be much help to you anyway,” he grimaced.

“Well, if Klaus really can possess anyone, its won’t matter if we tie you up because he could just control any one of us and make us kill you.”

“Thank you, Luther,” he smirked, sarcastic, "I feel so much better.”

“I can go talk to him,” Vanya offered. “I understand how he’s feeling right now. Plus he’s at my apartment and I want to make sure he hasn’t completely trashed the place,” she forced a chuckled.

Five met her with an intense stare. “Absolutely not, Vanya, I’m sorry but he’s way too dangerous.”

“Right,” Diego nodded, “that’s why we’re going instead.” He glanced at Luther and Allison, who nodded in agreement. Diego couldn’t forget the sadness he’d seen in his brother’s eyes, a piece of Klaus shining through. They couldn’t leave him alone in this.

“What, no!” Five exclaimed, “you’re going to get yourselves killed, none of you understand what he’s capable of, even I don’t. We need more information.”

“No, Five,” Allison snapped, “he’s our brother. We don’t need to strategise, he isn’t the enemy.”

“Right,” Luther nodded, “he’s scared, and he needs our help.”

“Oh shut up Luther!” Five shouted. All this was putting a strain on him. The veins in his neck stood out beneath swirling bruises. There was pain in his voice as he spoke. “This isn’t the time to play the hero.”

“No, you shut up,” Diego quipped, “all your ideas so far have been garbage.”

“And one of them was murder,” Allison added. Diego defending Luther? What was the world coming to. Five knew there was no point in arguing with them now. As Luther, Diego, and Allison left the room, he could only hope that they didn’t come back beaten, or worse.

Vanya shifted at his side, looking as if she was about to get to her feet. “Please,” Five muttered, “please stay.”

She couldn’t deny him, the way he was looking at her, he just looked like a poor kid, her brother. “Okay,” she smiled, “I’ll stay.”

…

_1 day, 7 hours_

When they arrived at the apartment, Klaus was long gone. The place was trashed, blinds drawn tight, wax melted into the carpet. The furniture had been pushed out against the walls, and an ouija board sat askew in the middle of the room. There was blood dried into the carpet by the door – Five’s – and an untouched pot of chicken curry growing cold on the stovetop. What’s more, as soon as they crossed the threshold all three of them felt strange. There was a presence that was hard to pin down, a stain on this place left behind from whatever Klaus had done here. Creatures stalked their peripheral, the beginnings of whispers formed in their minds, incoherent.

“Klaus?” Luther called, stepping forwards, “are you here?” He went off down the hall, still calling their brother’s name. Allison bent down and put a hand to the carpet in the centre of the living room. There was something weird about it, too cold for the heat outside, radiating quiet energy.

There was a clang of metal and Allison looked up in surprise. Diego had a spoonful of the chicken curry stuffed in his mouth. “Diego!” she hissed. He shrugged as he chewed, putting the spoon in the sink.

“What? It’s not like anyone’s going to eat it.”

“That’s Klaus’ cooking! Are you insane? Is it even edible?” Grace had tried to help them learn to cook as children, but Ben was the only one that had ever been any good.

“It’s just like Mom’s cooking, same recipe I swear,” he continued.

“But Klaus can’t cook,” she said, confused.

“Who knows, maybe it’s one of his new super powers,” he teased.

Luther came bounding back out of the hall looking flustered. “Okay, Klaus isn’t here,” he puffed, “but can we all agree that something really weird is going on here?”

“Agreed,” Allison replied, “I can barely hear myself think, there’s a sort of ringing in my ears.”

“Yeah,” Diego added, “me too.”

“So is this it? Do we head back to the academy?” Allison looked between them. They couldn’t give up yet.

“No, I say we check all the usual places, clubs, bars, back alleys, ask if anyone’s seem him around.’’ Diego replied. He was the only one that had kept any sort of watch over Klaus after he’d struck out on his own. Listening for his description on police reports, checking all the usual junkie hotspots around the city.

“Do you think you could check in with your police buddies?”

“Actually,” he muttered, “no. I’m a tiny bit… wanted for murder. – which,” he added, seeing the shock on their faces, “I didn’t commit, by the way.”

“So we check the places he frequents,” Luther reiterated, putting on that self-important tone he did when he was giving orders, “try and gather intel.”

“Yep, that’s what I said,” Diego muttered, annoyed.

“So let’s get going,” Allison added, cutting across the beginnings of an argument.

“Right,” Luther replied, “wait – is that chicken curry?”

…

_1 day, 3 hours_

_They should be back by now._ It was all he could think about as he poured over his father’s journal. Surely Klaus couldn’t take all of them on? The more he read, however, the more likely it seemed. It was difficult to resist reading all the entries, but Five forced himself to focus only on those labelled ‘Number Four.’ He’d have plenty of time to understand his father’s research if he lived to see the day after tomorrow. He was propped up on the bed, his wrists and ankles tied down by leather straps. Of course his father had a hospital bed with straps. Vanya had turned the pages for him for a while, but had gone off an hour or so earlier to practise her violin, before which he’d asked her to bring Delores down from upstairs. Vanya had been confused, a little pitiful maybe, but had done it all the same. Grace was here now, checking his vitals and turning the pages when he asked. She was happy to oblige, but didn’t seem to understand what was happening. She kept asking him if he wanted cookies.

The music was beautiful, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t heard Vanya play since they were children. She’d improved, obviously, but her music still carried that unmistakeable touch to it. It reminded him of home, and not the home where they’d suffered and strained against their father’s regime, but the home that was warm and comforting, where he sat in the library studying, or laughed with his siblings late into the night.

The journal entries were a little vaguer than he’d hoped. Reginald really hand’t gotten far with the boy. He read them aloud, so Delores could hear them too. She always had useful advice to add.

_September 13th, 1993_

_Number 4 is a sickly child. His carer reports difficulty in sleeping, and the boy constantly babbles on about imaginary friends – people that aren’t there. This isn’t unusual behaviour for a child, I’m told, and I refuse to let myself become hopeful that his words hold any merit._

_November 22nd, 1994_

_I have observed Number 4’s brain activity during one of his reported ‘sightings’ to great affect. It seems that the boy really is tapping into another layer of perception, seeing into neighbouring dimensions. In short, the boy can see the dead. At present his power is regretfully limited, but I suspect there will be ways to force its development, in time._

_May 31st, 1998_

_The apparitions frighten the boy, and he is beginning to resist his training. If his connection with the dead were to be strengthened, there is potential in the boy for far more than communing with spirits. There is potential for physical manifestation, and exerting control over said manifestations. I must come up with a way to rid Number 4 of this pathetic aversion to extending himself._

_December 16th, 1999_

_The fifth excursion has the boy rattled to the core. His response to the influx of spirits at the mausoleum has been disappointing so far, and he shows no sign of overcoming his fear. I will press on, as must he. Excursions and additional experiments will continue._

_July 24th, 2001_

_Number 4 continues to show an aversion to his abilities, but emerging results are promising. The boy is beginning to tap into, not only the minds and thoughts of the dead, but those of the living as well. He shows a limited psychic control over his surroundings, due to his connection to these invisible dimensions. There is potential, I believe, for possession, and not only of the dead. If these powers begin to manifest, I must find a way to protect myself._

The final line piqued Five’s attention. If their father had sought to protect himself from Klaus’ influence, perhaps he had succeeded, and there was a way to ward off his control.

_June 13th, 2003_

_The idiotic thing has broken his jaw. Experiments will be put on hold in the meantime. Fascinatingly, the painkillers the boy is prescribed seem to dull his abilities. The submersion of brain function achieved by such substances must limit his perception of these other realities. This fact could be useful if his abilities continue to manifest. The boy is relieved, I think, to be free of the apparitions for a time. His fear still paralyses him in the face of progress. This must be corrected._

_October 8th, 2003_

_Although his jaw is healed, the months of recovery, weening him off the morphine, has left him more determined than ever to disobey me, and to block out his perceptions in any way he can. More than once I’ve observed him raiding my liquor cabinet, and he’s begun to turn to less conventional means of suppressing his abilities._

Their father had known, they all had, that Klaus had gotten hooked on all manner of substances after his months on painkillers. Their father had called it a temporary weakness, and so they’d listened. They should have done more.

_January 11th, 2004_

_The boy’s excursions and experiments have been rendered useless now. He always finds a way to sneak something past me, use it to get through the night undisturbed. It’s humiliating, the way he defies me, despite his potential for greatness. I can only hope that this childish dependency will pass._

_November 1st, 2007_

_Almost ironic, the way that the most powerful of the children have run their use. Number 7, the most promising, was too dangerous to contain. Number 5, the insolent thing, ran before I could even begin to understand the extent of his usefulness. Number 4 is utterly useless now, and barely leaves his room since – Number 6. The boy is dead, or something far worse. Regrettably, I never did overcome my nausea enough to study the full extent of his abilities. He was a disgusting thing – his existence was an abomination in itself. I feel the children slipping away, one by one. I fear that none of them will be ready to face the end, when the time comes._

_February 28th, 2008_

_Number 4 has left the academy. I suspect he will be lying dead in an alleyway within the month. No matter, the boy has proven to me that he has no want to explore his power further. The drugs have stunted him, and soon, they will kill him – though I have wondered if such a thing is possible. His powers were perhaps the most interesting to me, a shame that they were gifted to such an arrogant and selfish thing. Number 2 continues to defy me, and I suspect he will follow his brother out the door soon enough. Number 3 dreams of stardom, that creature craves the spotlight, and I suspect she will get whatever it is that she desires. The only one that I can count upon is Number 1, the least powerful of them all. He will not be enough to stop what is coming, no matter how loyal he remains. I fear for the world, and I regret my failure to save it._  
…

_24 hours_

He awoke hours layer, the journal still propped up on his lap. Grace had left his side, but Vanya was standing in the doorway, violin case held at her side. He smiled.

“Hey there,” she said, coming in to sit by his side again.

“Are the other’s back yet?” He asked, glancing at the clock. It was almost morning.

Vanya looked away, face knotted with worry. “Not yet,” she admitted. “Have you found anything,” she pointed at the journal.

“It’ll be okay, Five,” she reassured him. “They’ll be back here with Klaus soon, and then maybe… maybe you can come to my concert tomorrow night?”

Five smiled, she sounded so hopeful. He wished he could be so optimistic, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was going to end tomorrow, despite the fact that the supposed cause was here beside him. “I’d like that,” he replied.

He felt a chill wash over him as the air fell still. He watched as the quiet smile on Vanya’s face solidified, and her eyes glazed over, unseeing. Time stopped, and a golden tinge saturated the room. Five rolled his eyes. “Just come out already, let’s get this over with.” The Handler loved to make a dramatic entrance.

He heard her heels click-clacked against the tiles. “Hello Number Five,” she called. That insufferable, sing-song tone. “You know, you always were my favourite employee.”

His head twinged. He glanced down at himself, tied to the bed, beaten black and blue. This really wasn’t a good time. “What are you doing here?”

She feigned offence, hand over her over-exposed chest. “I just wanted to congratulate you.”

He scoffed, “for what?”

“For eliminating Dave Katz, of course,” she busied herself with her veil, pulling it away from her face. There was a scar on her face, running from her eye to her jaw, ragged flesh. It was a small price to pay for a grenade blast. He wondered how long it had been for her. “We were about to put one of our own agents onto it, of course, we couldn’t allow young Klaus to stick around in the past. But, then we find out that you’ve already done the job.” She chuckled, grinning at him, "You’re out best agent, Number Five, even now.”

“Vanya’s safe now, she’s not about to destroy the world.” He knew that she wouldn’t be here unless things were going her way. The Handler was a sore winner. She simply chuckled, turning her chin up, silver curls bouncing. He sighed, defeated. “So the apocalypse is still on, I presume.”

“Oh yes,” she smiled.

“Great, and you’ve come to gloat.”

“I did warn you it was pointless, Five, trying to stop what’s meant to be. Whatever you do, you’ll only set it all in motion.”

“And whatever you do, you’ll always get on my nerves.”

“Oh,” she gasped, “so harsh, Mr Five.” She sniggered, glancing over at Vanya. Five’s expression hardened. “And just look at the bomb,” she grinned, running her fingers through Vanya’s hair.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat.

“Come now Five,” she smirked, glancing him up and down, strapped down to the bed, “what are you going to do about it?” She chuckled at the intensity of his expression, the rapid rise and fall of his beaten chest. “Keep her close, Five,” she added, leaning in towards his face. Uncomfortably close. She whispered, “you never know when she might explode.” She gave him a final, gloating smirk, before she adjusted her briefcase, and disappeared in a flurry of blue light. The golden light faded, and he watched as movement and perception returned to his sister’s face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, noticing the frown now plastered across his face.

“Yeah,” he lied, “everything’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo this one ended up being very long... I would condense them but I have to make the chapter names fit with the lyrics :))
> 
> that scene where Diego found Five was actually the first one I wrote for this fic, I just realllllyyy wanted to work it in somewhere


	8. Will you love me

_24 hours,_

“Talk to me, Klaus,” Ben pleaded, again.  

Klaus leant against the exposed brick of one of the city’s many back-alleys, his home for many a night in the past thirteen years. After he talked to Diego, he knew that his siblings would come after him, try to help him. He didn’t want their help. He didn’t want their pity – and he certainly didn’t want Ben’s. 

“Klaus!” He cried, but Klaus just closed his eyes, willing the pills to work. They should have started kicking in my now, he should be able to feel _something_. He still hadn’t told Ben what he’d done to Five earlier that day, but Ben knew it couldn’t have been anything good, the way Klaus was crying when he’d snapped out of it. He’d grabbed his coat and headed for the streets, spending the hours until nightfall traipsing from gutter to gutter, searching for old friends. He’d found them, of course, they were never hard to find when you knew where to look. It felt so easy, falling back onto old habits. He was ready to feel numb again, let them take away the grief, if only for a moment. He felt the pills slide down his throat, anticipating the quiet rush of euphoria, building, but it never came. He felt something, but it was subdued, as if it were happening to someone else. He’d gone too far, he realised, now even the drugs weren’t enough to push it down. The ghosts still followed him, waiting, filling his thoughts with anger and vengeance. The moon beat down from above, and the darkness was full of eyes – all trained on him. 

“What is it, Ben,” he sighed, turning to look at his brother. He had his hood pulled up over his head, hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were wide with concern, and always, _always_ with pity. 

“What do you mean, what is it?” He snapped, “you’ve barely spoken to me in the past eight hours, something weird’s going on with you, all this power is doing something to you, you must see that. You need help.”

Klaus waved him away, shushing him. “I’m fine, I’m just experimenting okay? You’re the one that wanted me to “explore myself” and all that crap.”

Ben scoffed. “You know, I liked you better when you were –“ he stopped himself short, averting his gaze.  

“When I was what, Ben? When I was high off my ass seven days a week,” he yelled, “when I couldn’t hold a thought for more than a few seconds, when I couldn’t sleep at night without seeing corpses, go a sober day without hearing voices? I wasn’t even living, you’re the one that told me that, you’re the one that always wanted me to sober up. Well here I am,” he shrugged, “all sobered up, and you –“ he spat “– can’t come to terms with the fact that I’ve changed since we were seventeen. I’m not your kid brother anymore, I’m just this. This power is all I am.” That glint in his eyes, it was back. Other voices creeped in to join his own, Ben could feel them, pressing inwards, threatening.  

“That’s not true,” Ben muttered, despondent. “you’re more than that, I see it, we all do. We love you, Klaus. Please just go back to the academy, talk to them, let them help you,” he pleaded. 

“They don’t understand me,” he dismissed, “they won’t even try, they never have.” He nodded to himself, “I can show them.” 

“W–what do you mean?”

“I mean, this power, it’s brilliant, it’s terrible… I just…” his voice faltered, “I just want them to understand.”

“You need to stop.” He was right, Klaus knew it, but he couldn’t, they wouldn’t let him. They would never let him stop. “It’s hurting you, and it’s hurting others. Your abilities are only growing, but you’re lost, Klaus, you can’t control them. We need more information, we need help from our brothers and sisters.” 

“Will you stop trying to give me advice already,” he snarled. “You’re just another one of _them_ , the voices, that’s all you’ve ever been.” 

“Klaus,” he murmured, voice soft, hurt.  

“I’ll remind you, because you seem to have forgotten, you’re dead, Ben,” he hissed. “You belong to me.” 

A calm anger fell over Ben’s face, a touch of fear. He nodded. “Then go ahead,” he replied, voice hard as stone. “Destroy yourself, destroy them. I don’t care, right? I’m not really here.”  

“I don’t have to listen to your shit,” Klaus muttered, letting out a sigh, “not anymore.” 

It was the first time that Klaus had pushed Ben away on purpose, the first time he’d had the ability to. Ben was silenced, stuffed down into purgatory, cast aside just like any other voice in the ocean of spirits that swarmed around him, desperate for a piece. 

…

_18 hours,_

It had been a hassle, convincing Vanya to untie him from the bed. It wasn’t her fault, he had warned her that Klaus could possess him at any moment, in fact, he felt a little unsafe at how little it had taken to convince her otherwise. He needed some air, and he could walk now without his knees buckling every few steps. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere in particular, in fact, he didn’t want to stay out too long if the other’s came back to the academy with news about Klaus. He didn’t know what he’d do if they never did. He had to protect Vanya, she’d been right, it was her power that was meant to trigger the apocalypse, but Five couldn’t see how that was possible, especially since he’d noticed that she’d staring taking her pills again. And The Handler… she wouldn’t have shown up unless their fates were sealed – and what of the other agents, Hazel and Cha-Cha, they’d been uncharacteristically quiet these past few days. If their assignments had been terminated, then the human race really was on the chopping block. The sun was just beginning to rise over the farthest buildings, sky painted a hazy pale blue. It was the last day any of these people would ever know, unless Five could stop it. It had to be Klaus, it was the only possible explanation, no matter how little sense it made. 

He was still deep in thought when a man stopped him in his tracks. Five would have punched him in the gut if he didn’t think his hand would shatter on impact. “Are you alright, young man,” he said. He was middle-aged, broad shouldered, a well-meaning smile on his face. “It’s late for a kid like you to be out alone.” Five shrugged him off and mumbled an excuse before the man clamped his hand down on his shoulder, hard enough to sent his healing wounds ablaze. “Come now,” he gloated, and his voice rang with a hundred more. Five glanced up, and his eyes bleared blue. The man smiled, lips quivering with the strain, “we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

Five felt his heart skip a beat as he pushed the man off him and teleported a few paces away. He started running back to the academy. “Careful now,” a woman stepped in front of him, umbrella twirling over her shoulder, “it’s time to stop this little game.” He darted around her and her blazing stare, breaking into a full sprint. 

“You can’t run forever, little Number Five,” a girl shouted from across the street, mother looking down at her with concern. Five gritted his teeth, ignored his protesting bones. The academy wasn’t far now. He felt eyes on his back, voices in his head, bile rising in his throat. Why was he gloating? What had he done to the others? 

Five bounded up the front steps, panting. To his surprise, Luther opened the door. Five was so relieved to see him back and unharmed that he threw himself into his arms. He looked taken aback, but returned the gesture all the same. 

“Five,” he asked, apprehensive, “what’s the matter?”

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, not quite letting himself to believe it, “you’re all okay!” 

“What are you doing out of… never mind. We’re fine,” he reassured him, “we couldn’t find Klaus though, we searched all over the city.” 

“I was so worried.”

“You should be.” It wasn’t Luther’s voice anymore. Five looked up in surprise. Luther’s eyes were vacant, glazed blue, veins popping in his neck. He smirked as Five cried out in alarm, dashing around his brother’s lumbering form and running into the entrance hall. 

“You’re not safe here,” Allison called down from the stairwell above, “you’re not safe anywhere.” That feeling again, like the air was choking the life from him.

“Keep on running,” Diego called, leaning against the living room wall, looking on with mild surprise. “It won’t do you any good.” He couldn’t breathe. He barged into the operating room. 

Vanya was standing by the bed, bright blue eyes boring into his vision. She smiled, cocking her head, “Because I’m coming for you, Five.” He couldn’t stand it anymore, he screamed, in fury, in fear, in shame – because this was all his fault –

“Five!” Vanya exclaimed, snapping out of Klaus’ control. “What’s wrong, are you alright?” 

“Shit!” He hissed, “no, not at all.” He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Vanya dashed over to him, trying to put a protective arm over his shoulder. He shrugged away. Luther, Diego, and Allison came storming in as well, all equally concerned, and equally unaware.  

“What was that about?” Diego muttered.

 “Five, why were you screaming?”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Just, Jesus, will you all just shut up,” he snapped, pressing his hand to his brow, trying to quell his oncoming headache. 

 “Well, sorry, but I for one am I little concerned,” said Allison.

 “So none of you feel strange at all?”

 “Got a bit of a headache I guess, weird stomach,” Diego shrugged.

 “Yeah, me too,” Luther agreed.

 "Yeah, because you both ate that dodgy chicken curry!” Allison reminded them sternly. 

 “You _ate_ Klaus’ cooking?” Vanya asked, incredulous. 

“What did I say about shutting up!” Five snapped. “Klaus. Just. Possessed. You. All of you.”

Diego chuckled, looking around at the others, “Uh, no he didn’t.” 

“Yes,” Five sighed, “he did. It was only for a moment, so you’re not exactly getting the… full effects. But his power is growing, he possessed some people out on the street too, chasing after me. He switched between you all as easily as flicking a switch, Dad was right about him, more than right.” 

 “You’re serious,” Vanya murmured, sitting back down in the chair by the bed, deep in thought. 

 “He wouldn’t do that,” Luther muttered, trying to convince himself. 

 “Well,” Five gave him a sarcastic smirk, “he just did, and what’s more, he said he was coming here. Coming for me.” He slumped down on the hospital bed, exhausted. 

 “Yeah, coming for you, not us,” Diego shrugged. 

 “But we’re going to stop him, right,” Vanya looked between them, eyes wide, “we _are_ going to stop him?” There was an uncomfortable silence. They hadn’t forgiven him, but they still didn’t know what Five had done – what he’d _really_ done. He’d killed Klaus, destroyed his life of happiness. His actions were meant to stop the apocalypse, not start it. The Handler was right, as much as Five hated to admit it. _What’s meant to be, is meant to be._

 “We will,” Luther nodded, “no matter what Five did to him, we won’t let Klaus become a killer.” So that was it then, this was for Klaus, not for Five. He supposed that was fair enough. 

 “But how can we help him?” Allison asked. 

 “Well, don’t drugs numb his powers?” Luther shrugged, “Maybe we could give him some.” 

 “Great idea, big guy, we can throw fistfuls of cocaine at him to make him stop.”

 “Honestly,” Five sighed, throwing his hands up in the air, “I’m open to suggestions.” 

 “You didn’t find anything in Dad’s journal?” Asked Luther.

 “Not much, no,” Five admitted, “but he did know about these… potential developments. I don’t think he expected Klaus to last as long as he did on the streets, and even if he did, the drugs would keep it down.”

 “That’s horrible,” Vanya mumbled.

 “Well,” Diego quipped, “what else did you expect from that asshole.” He thought Luther might retaliate but even he seemed to be in agreement. 

 “There’s more,” Five continued, “I was… visited, last night.”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific bud,” Diego drawled.  

“By my employer,” he pressed on, ignoring him. “She seemed to imply that the apocalypse is still on for tonight.”

“What?” Vanya gasped, after all, Five has assured her that _she_ was supposed to be the cause. 

 “I checked with the police already, they’ve got Harold Jenkins in custody _and_ he’s beaten to a pulp, I don’t see how he’s escaping,” Allison added. 

“Just shut up, okay, shut up,” Five muttered, closing his eyes. He hadn’t missed these family arguments. Everything had been so much simpler when it was just him and his thoughts, and of course, Delores. “All I’m saying is if Klaus’ powers continue to grow at the rate that they have been – everything the journal listed; physical manifestation of the dead, possession, telekinesis – then maybe _he_ could be the cause.” There was a murmur of disbelief from all of them. 

 “Okay,” Diego offered, humouring him, “that would make sense _if_ Klaus actually wanted to destroy the world, which he doesn’t.”

 “You’re forgetting, I know what it’s like to be inside his head – to an extent anyway – I felt like I was going crazy after just a few minutes, but that’s his life…” his voice grew small, because of course he remembered. Back at the apartment had been one thing, but the possession… a thousand entities stuffed inside one body, all screaming and jostling and trying to force their way out. No wonder Klaus was high all the time, that power had been growing inside him ever since he was a kid, it was enough to drive anyone to madness. “Look,” he grimaced at his brief vulnerability, “all I’m saying is that we should be on our guard, and if Klaus really is capable of causing the apocalypse, then,” he cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe he was really saying this. “We can’t hesitate to do what’s necessary to stop him.”

 “Okay, now that,” Diego pointed at him, snarling, “that is some bullshit right there.”

 “Yeah Five, what the hell? This is Klaus we’re talking about, remember?” Allison added. 

 “Yeah, she’s right Five,” Luther muttered, “and that’s if it’s even possible to kill him anyway.”

 “Wait, what did you say?” Five snapped. 

 “Wasn’t it in Dad’s journal?” he looked around guilty, “Klaus can’t die.” Five raised his eyebrows in a manner that said _no, it absolutely was not in the journal._ “Well, that’s what Pogo said anyway, that Klaus’ connection to the, err, dead dimension or something, is too strong.”

 “He is, I believe,” a voice sounded from the shadows, and Pogo came hobbling from around the corner, “now in a perpetual state suspended between life and death.”

 “Oh great,” Five rolled his eyes, “and where have you been this whole time?” 

 “Extrapolating new conclusions from your late father’s research, so much regarding young Klaus was left unfinished – and when I heard about your… situation,” he glanced towards Five’s broken body pointedly, “I thought there might be something he may have missed in his negligence of the boy.” 

 “And was there?” Five asked, growing impatient. Sure, Pogo had been like family growing up, but he’s always been Reginald’s man – well, ape – through and through. And Vanya was right to be wary of him, protecting their father’s harmful deceptions even in death. 

 “There were… strategies, that Master Hargreeves planned to implement when the boy’s powers grew beyond his control, or beyond his usefulness. It’s the same reason he medicated Miss Vanya, and conditioned Miss Allison’s powers to respond only to a recognisable, and rather long, activation phrase.” 

 Allison looked over in shock, but quickly resolved it within herself. “What, so–“

 “So he could control us,” Five finished, “it’s the same reason he wouldn’t let me time travel, not even under his guidance, because it wasn’t useful to him. He always went on about our full potential, but he never cared about us reaching it.” Pogo looked down, he seemed uncomfortable. Good, Five thought. He’d stood by and watched them suffer through everything their father had put them through, and he never said a word. 

 “Yes,” Pogo coughed, “quite.” Vanya looked up, outraged, as if she were about to speak up, but she decided against it. 

 “So, what did you find?” Luther asked. 

 “Quite a few promising theories, actually, Master Five, if you’d consider coming upstairs to see them for yourself?” 

 Five nodded, “alright, lead the way.”

 “Seriously?” Vanya cried, exasperated, “as far as I know we haven’t actually _talked_ to Klaus yet, maybe that would be a better place to start?”

 “You know, for once, I actually agree with her,” Diego admitted, rueful.

 “Well,” Five shrugged, grinning sarcastically, "by all means, go on another wild goose chase across the city, good luck to you.”

 “Yeah alright,” he shrugged, smirking back at Five, “good idea. Certainly better than your’s anyway.” Five glared at him, jaw hanging open. He couldn’t believe how stupid they all were. 

 “Can we get breakfast first?” Luther grunted, looking around at them sheepishly. 

 “Yes, okay,” Diego replied, “good plan. Breakfast, then we find Klaus, we talk to Klaus, we bring Klaus back here and you don’t have to _kill_ him with one of Dad’s hell creations.” 

 “Seconded,” Allison announced. And once again, Five was powerless to stop them as the three of them marched from the room. Vanya stood to leave as well, and, again, Five stopped her. 

 “Vanya, I just found out last night that the apocalypse is still on, there’s no way I’m letting you go out there.”

 She scoffed, “letting me – Five, I can handle myself, okay!” She was starting to lose her temper with the way he, the way all of them, were treating her like she was made of glass – tiptoeing around her as if one wrong look would make her blow up and cause the end of days. 

 “Vanya, please, just stay,” and there it was again, that pleading expression that made all his age and his spite fall away, and Vanya only saw the boy she’d shared everything with, comforted, promised to stand by, and lost. He noticed her soften and continued, “you have a concert tonight, right? Why don’t you do some last minute practise and, if all goes well, we can all be there tonight, okay?” Of course, Five didn’t think that was going to happen, but it paid to be positive. 

Vanya only looked conflicted for a moment. “Okay,” she nodded, caving again. She got up and left the room, however – she couldn’t stand to be near Pogo knowing what he’d kept from her. 

“Master Five,” Pogo prompted, once she was out of earshot, “shall we go take a look at your father’s office?” 

 …

 7 _hours,_

 He’d been wandering the city all day, wishing he’d eaten some of that curry Ben made for him the day before. There was only one place he could think of going to, somewhere he could see Dave again, if only frozen in a moment. The veteran’s bar was open, and despite it being so early in the evening, the bar was populated by at least a dozen grizzled patrons, drinking the day away. Would he have come here with Dave, if he’d lived? He might have ended up becoming friends with some of the people here. He couldn’t stop thinking about the life they had together, the one Five had stolen. Where had they lived? Had they been happy together, all that time? He’d never know now. A part of him wished he didn’t know about any of it, it only made his death harder to accept. 

 Heads turned as he entered the bar, and Klaus recognised a few of them from – had it only been three days? – ago when he’d caused a bit of a scene. He blocked them out, making a beeline for the Vietnam memorial on the far wall. He pressed his fingers to the glass, stroking the spot where Dave’s grainy photograph hung. The picture didn’t do him justice, and the film was spotted brown with age. He was pictured there next to him, as he’d been just a few months ago, happy, even in the middle of a war zone, happier than he’d ever been. 

 “Back again, are we?” A voice behind him growled. “You’ve got a lifetime ban from this place after what you did, you and your brother – not that you’d be welcome here anyway.”

 Klaus chuckled, turning around the face him. “Oh look,” he grinned, “it’s the village idiot.” The man’s expressed pulled tight under his white beard, eyebrows furrowed in rage. 

“You’ve got some nerve, kid, showing your face here, again. Your crazy brother was here again last night looking for you, but this time,” he spat, “you ain’t got your brother here to weasel you out.” 

 “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, cordially, turning back to the memorial and going to open the glass panel. The veteran slapped his hand away and slammed the glass shut again. “Ouch,” he hissed, “you know, that’s very rude of you.” The first veteran was backed up by almost every other patron there, standing behind him, faces twisted into a snarl. Klaus couldn’t exactly blame them, after all, he understood what they’d gone through, what a little shit he was being in their eyes. Then again, he didn’t much care. Just like everyone else, they wouldn’t believe him, would never understand. The spirits were crying out for blood, a thrumming energy pulsing through his veins. They waited, and he let them in. Figures of dark smoke and blue light started to manifest around the room, many of them soldiers themselves, dead in wars long past, forgotten, bent on vengeance. The crowd of living veterans stared around in disbelief, some of them putting their hands over their ears or pressing their fingers to their temples, overwhelmed. One of the patrons – closer to the door – went to run, but found that the locks clicked shut before he could reach for the handle. 

Klaus giggled excitedly, wiping a drop of blood from his nose. He ran and vaulted over the bar, grabbing a packet of salted peanuts. All around the room, figures solidified, covered in blood and anger. He sat up on top of the bar, grabbing himself a shot glass and filling it generously. It was a burden lifted, to manifest them here, like pulling a weight off of him. They tied down his thoughts with feelings of rage, and now they were free, just like they wanted. 

 “Okaayyyy spirits,” he announced, like some sort of necromantic ringmaster. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “go ham?” he waved his hand around in the air, grinning, and downed a shot. Some of them snarled, those who could still understand anything but rage anyway. He crossed his legs and threw one of the peanuts up into the air, catching it in his mouth. This was gonna be good.

 This is what he’d been missing these past couple days, they’d all been building up inside, struggling to get out. Everyone of them that he brought forth was just another voice removed from his head, another screaming face gone from behind his eyelids. Not only that, it was exhilarating. Ever since the night he discovered the truth, he’d felt more and more connected to the spirits that plagued him. To an extent, at least, he felt what they felt – loneliness, frustration, injustice, rage – and with every passing hour it was only getting stronger. 

 It was probably the best bar fight he’d ever seen, and he’s seen, hell, _been_ in plenty. He found himself cheering for one side or the other, observing the subtle blue glow emanating from his hands that now came without strain. Some of them were bound to be the victims of one veteran or the other on the battlefield, sporting barrages of bullet holes and missing chunks from grenade blasts. Spirits tended to hang around their killers. Others were just there for the show, and some of them were twisted into something less – or something more – than human. You couldn’t look into their eyes without feeling like you were falling. It wasn’t what Klaus would have called a far fight. 

 One of the living still in the fight smashed a bar stool against the front window, making a sizeable hole which he began to clamber out of, cutting himself on the glass. “Oi!” Klaus cried, “that’s cheating, he’s leaving the arena!” He jumped down from the bar, shrugging, “guess we’ll have to go after him.” He clenched his fists, concentrating, because there were more, there were always more waiting for their turn to live again. They burned for it, and he couldn’t refuse. He looked to his side, expectantly. “Ben!” He cried, waving energetically, “how’s my favourite brother doing?” People on the street had spotted the man running from the bar, and the crowd of ghosts now streaming through the locked door and out onto the roadside.

 “Klaus?” He muttered, looking around the ruined bar, the vengeful spirits, and the bodies on the floor, “what the hell did you do?” He grabbed Klaus by the shoulders, shaking him and repeating, louder, “what the hell did you do!”

“Relax, relax,” Ben’s hands fell through Klaus’ body as Klaus held his up his own in a placating gesture. 

“Do you think you could help me with a little something – you know,” he splayed his fingers out around his stomach, waving them around while making gross sound effects, “do your thing?” 

“Are you insane?” He cried, which, to be frank, Ben was coming to think that he was. He left his side for morning and this was where he ended up? 

“Oh, come on Ben,” he chided, looking at him with sad puppy-dog eyes. “I know you’re just like the rest of them, I mean you died when you were just seventeen – how horrible,” he stuck out his bottom lip in feigned sadness. Ben scowled. “Come onnn,” he pleaded, “aren’t you angry? Don’t you wanna,” he punched the air in front of him, “strike back at the world!” He lowered his voice, looking into his eyes, “your siblings?” 

“Klaus,” he warned, turning away. 

“It’s our fault you died, little bro, doesn’t that just make you wanna–“ 

“Stop!” He shouted, rounding on Klaus. “You’re a bunch of assholes, that’s been established, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill innocent people for you and your mad power trip – I mean look at yourself Klaus,” he indicated towards the havoc now pouring from the bar to the streets outside. “This is insane!”  

He pouted, tilting his head sideways. There was a manic glint in his eyes. “I thought you’d say something like that.” He closed his eyes, reaching back into that dark place where their minds were laid bare. Just a quick extension of himself and –

“Klaus,” Ben murmured, “what… what are you…” his words were cut short as that blue light seeped across his eyes, through the veins where blood no longer flowed. Klaus smiled at him, watching his influence take hold, echoing that same glow. Klaus smiled as Ben stepped away towards the streets, opening his jacket, letting those twisting monstrosities free. Regular ghosts where all well and good, but regular ghosts didn’t have portals to hell dimensions inside their abdomens. Ben was going to make this a whole lot more fun for everyone. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, “wait up a sec, I almost forgot.” He dashed back to the other side of the bar and wedged open the glass panel containing the Vietnam memorabilia. He snatched the photograph from the case, prying the worn out paper from its frame. He ran a finger over the grainy imprint of Dave’s fave, and clutched it to his chest as he stepped into the air, letting it carry him above the ground on a swirl of pale, wavering sky. 


	9. Like you loved me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The apocalypse will always happen, and Vanya will always be the cause.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I don't exactly have an excuse here, I'm so sorry this took so long!!

_5 hours,_

 

Now _this_ was high. Everything he’d experienced before, the pills and the drink and the smokes, all knitted into a veil that he pulled over his eyes to obscure the world – this world. His world. 

 

He was floating feet off the ground, arms outstretched, feeling the power of the spirits that walked beside him flow through every tendon. The screams of the living and the dead alike rang in the sky like music. Ben was beside him, finally letting his power take him over – without risk of death this time – and he was free. The monster had a mind of its own, coiling around debris, people, anything it could find. It fed off chaos, just like Klaus did, otherworldly screams muffled from the other side of the portal, beasts struggling through. Every casualty joined his ranks, rising in their fear, confusion, and anguish. Everyone of them only added to the noise, and every one of them took a little piece of him away. 

 

…

 

_4 hours,_

 

It was far easier to find Klaus this time. They’d eaten some breakfast back at the academy, blissfully unaware of just how far the situation would escalate. Mom had been delighted at the chance to make them blueberry pancakes, and bacon and eggs, all arranged into an inappropriate number of smiley faces for the sombre occasion. The next few hours were relatively uneventful as well. They went back to Vanya’s apartment, just in case he’d returned there in the morning, but no luck. They checked his on-again off-off-again rehab centre, and the local police station (during which the wanted Diego stayed in the car), but still no luck. Luther suggested checking the veteran bar again, even though they’d checked there the previous night – much to the distaste of the owner. The suggestion coincided with a report crackling over Diego’s police attuned radio – some sort of freak accident/potential homicide in that very bar. 

 

As they drove towards the establishment, however, it became clear that the attack had spread beyond the bar. 

 

“Is that –“ Allison muttered.

 

“Klaus.” Luther finished. He was there, hovering in mid air, arms outstretched and leading a parade of shambling corpses. He radiated blue light, coursing from him in pulses that pushed through the air. There it was again, that feeling from back at the apartment, only so much stronger this time. Sound pressed against their eardrums, forcing the blood to their head and their hands to shake. The three of them staggered out of the car, Luther with his arm around Allison, helping her stand. The buildings alongside the macabre procession were ruined; windows smashed in, brick blown apart, cars crushed and abandoned at the roadside. The living ran and dodged between the rows of dead, or clawed across the rubble-strewn ground, moments away from joining them. Klaus seemed oblivious – in fact, Diego noticed he was wearing headphones and doing a sort of awkward mid–air dance. 

 

“Five was right,” Diego shouted over the noise, “this is fucking apocalyptic!”

 

“What do we do?” Asked Allison, staggering up beside him. 

 

“We have to try and talk to him, he’ll listen to us, we’re family.” Luther didn’t seem so sure of himself, so much for inspiring leadership. 

 

“Is that…” Allison pointed, seeming to have lost the ability to speak. Sure enough, all three of them turned to see a giant glowing tentacle smash into the side of a building, tearing down half the second floor and pulling it to the ground. 

 

“Ben,” Diego and Luther muttered, watching as their brother, a ghostly spectre, came into view from the other side of the street. His mouth was contorted in pain as the monstrous entities extended from his torso, flailing in the air. 

 

Clearly, someone had tried to stop the procession, as Diego spotted many uniformed officers crushed and splayed on the ground, or else marching along with the others. Diego wondered how many of them he knew. 

 

“Come on!” He yelled, “we have to do something.” The other two nodded, and together, they faced the oncoming hoard with heads held high, approaching their brother as if they’d caught him raiding the liquor cabinet at home rather than raising an army of the dead. 

 

“Hey, Klaus!” Diego yelled, trying to keep his voice level. Klaus whirled around, taking one of the buds out of his ears. He waved excitedly. Diego waved back, nervous, looking sideways at Allison and Luther for support. 

 

Klaus lowered himself so he was floating just a few inches off the ground. The dead continued to wreak havoc, but stopped their advancement up the street. “Oh, hiya Diego,” Klaus grinned, “did you know I can float now?” He did a little twirl in mid-air for emphasis. 

 

“Uhhh, yeah that’s great buddy, why don’t you come on down and we can talk.” He was putting on his police officer voice, diplomatic, stoic, and just a little intimidating. 

 

“Do you want a peanut?” Klaus asked, waving a packet in the air, “they’re salted.”

 

“I’m alright, thanks,” he tried not to look at the spectres either side of his brother, and the way they were staring at him like they were ready to tear him limb from limb. He took a few cautious steps closer, with the other two following close behind. 

 

“It’s not just floating that’s new I see,” he said, indicating the destruction surrounding them. 

 

“Oh, you noticed,” he sniggered.

 

“What are you planning on doing with your… friends.”

 

“Well, funny you should ask, I was just on my way back to the academy to see you guys!” He giggled, waving at Allison, who gave a nervous half-smile back. 

 

“Well, why don’t you stop all this and just come back with us, I think we’ve all got a lot to talk about, and to… apologise for.” 

 

“That’s okay Diego, I didn’t want to talk to you anyway,” his expression darkened suddenly, and he’s eyes gleamed blue, “I just wanna talk to Five.” 

 

“Talk… okay, well, Five thinks you might be out to kill him.”

 

“Oh, well, I’m out to kill everyone, so tell him he’s nothing special,” he smirked. 

 

“Klaus, you can’t just go around killing people!” Luther yelled. Diego glared at him as if to say _I got this, asshole._

 

“Why not, they like it better,” he whined, “and you will too, I mean look at Ben, he’s having a blast!” He turned and gave Ben a double thumbs up, though he didn’t seem to notice, eyes still glazed over, tentacles tearing through the rubble. 

 

Luther, Diego, and Allison shared a worried look, the two of them nodded at Allison, who raised her voice at Klaus. “I heard a r–“

 

“Ugh, Allison,” he groaned, as her eyes rolled up into whites and her knees buckled underneath her, “please, for once, just shut up.” Allison cowered on the ground, hands clasping at her ears and shuddering. 

 

Luther bent down by her side. “Allison,” he whispered, urgently, “Allison are you alright.” She didn’t seem to be able to hear him, she looked as if she was about to faint. 

 

Diego took another step towards Klaus, covertly unsheathing one of his knives. He didn’t know what exactly he was hoping to do with it – maybe a good cut would snap Klaus out of this madness. It whistled towards his abdomen, but stopped in mid-air just before it reached his exposed midriff. 

 

“Diego,” Klaus tutted, “bad idea.” The knife spun around in the air and came hurtling back towards him, but he ducked out of the way. Luther stood up, holding the unconscious Allison in his arms, face twisted in anger. 

 

“Get her back to the car!” Diego yelled, at which Luther didn’t have time to argue. He hoisted her up and ran for it. Diego turned back to Klaus, taking a few more cautious steps towards him. “Klaus! Just stop this, I don’t want to fight you, just come back the academy with us, please.” 

 

“She’s angry with you, you know,” he teased, folding his arms.

 

“What?” He snapped.

 

“She’s all like arrghh!” He laughed, putting on an animated angry expression. “Why didn’t you pick up the phone, Diego!” A wave of grief came over him, he felt his muscles go slack, his feet rooted to the ground. How did he know? He hadn’t – no, it was impossible. “Seriously bro, the one time she actually wanted to talk to you and you _weren’t there.”_

 

“You’d b–better stop talking right now,” he muttered, cold. 

 

“Did you know it’s really Five’s fault she’s dead?” He said, still not listening to him. “Those freaks were only in town because they wanted Five, I mean, they used to be work buddies, and they killed her!”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Just a little something we have in common,” he grinned. 

Diego felt tears stinging his eyes, he blinked them away, even as he heard her voice in his head. _Why weren’t you there?_ He saw her face in the dark behind his eyes, rotting flesh, pale eyes, anger. _Eudora._

 

He staggered backwards, and he could hear Klaus laughing. Around him, the dead got to work again, marching onwards, converging on him. Diego scrambled to his feet and ran, the voices still taunting him as if they were his very thoughts. Luther was running up to meet him from the car.

 

“Go!” He yelled, “go back now, we need to get back to the academy!”

 

“We can’t just leave him like this,” Luther argued, “he’s tearing the city apart!”

 

“Yes, we can. Five was right,” he said, regretting every word. He grabbed Luther by the shoulder and attempting to steer him away. “We need to stop him, however we can.”

 

As they turned to run, Klaus caught sight of the look in their eyes. There was no pity anymore, not a trace of it. Now their eyes were full of fear. It felt _so_ much better.

 

…

 

_2 hours,_

 

“I can walk, Luther, okay,” Allison’s voice sounded from outside. Vanya stopped playing and rested her violin down on the seat, rushing out to see if they were okay. Coming out to the entrance hall, she saw Luther with an arm draped around Allison, who was trying to shrug him off, though she did seem a little shaky. Diego was uncharacteristically silent, standing rooted to the spot with a dark expression. 

 

“Guys,” she said, feeling useless, “you’re back.” She looked around hopefully but, of course, Klaus wasn’t with them. “No luck with Klaus then,” she added. 

 

Diego sprang into action, putting on his usual scowl. “Where’s Five,” he muttered, barging past her. 

 

“I – I think he’s still upstairs with Pogo,” she said, knowing he wasn’t really listening. Luther and Allison followed Diego up the stairs, passing Vanya as if she were invisible. It was okay, she was used to it. She followed them up as well, wondering if they’d try and stop her from joining them. She felt like a kid again, left out, practically under house arrest. All these years… and nothing had changed. 

 

…

 

“Shit,” Diego gasped as he pushed open the office door. It creaked as it swung aside to reveal a dismal scene. They didn’t know what they’d expected, leaving Five alone in their dad’s office all day. Maybe something a little better than this. Papers were strewn all over the floor and pinned up haphazardly on the walls, along with a tapestry of equations and notes scrawled in chalk. Five himself was laying face down on their father’s desk, arm dangling over the edge towards his weird half-mannequin propped up against the wood. A litter of empty bottles lay on the floor, as did their father’s journal. If only Reginald could see his precious office now. 

 

“Is he drunk?” Allison asked, stepping gingerly over the piles of papers on the ground. 

 

“I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet,” Diego muttered, striding over to the desk. He prodded Five hard in the back, and he reacted strikingly fast. He gripped Diego’s arm with surprising strength, even as his eyelids fluttered open and he forced out a yawn. 

 

“Five, what do you think you’re doing?” Luther grunted, doing his best to imitate their father’s sharp, cold tone. 

 

“I’m working,” Five murmured, voice groggy as he struggled to a sitting position. 

 

“Oh really? Because you,” Diego snatched his arm out of Five’s back and nudged him, making Five winced, “you look like shit.” 

 

“I can’t believe this,” Allison sighed, sifting through a pile of notes. They were scrawled over in black ink in such detail that the original contents of the papers were illegible. “please tell me you have something.” She was getting desperate, they all were.

 

“So, I see you’re all alive,” Five drawled, now sitting, legs swinging over the side of the desk. His hair stuck up at odd angles and there were dark circles under his eyes. Somehow, he looked even worse than when they’d left him on the hospital bed this morning. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that.”

 

“Okay,” Diego sighed, barging past them and slumping back in the over-sized office chair. “I admit it, you were right.”

 

“Just be thankful you aren’t dead,” Five muttered, snatching the notes that Allison was holding and pressing the paper up to his eyes intently. “Actually,” he said, not taking his eyes off the page, “right about which part?”

 

“Well, Klaus can’t be reasoned with, and he seemed pretty intent on killing everyone too,” Luther grumbled. He looked like he was going to be sick, and it was true – none of them could really believe it. 

 

“And how much have things progressed,” Five asked, though he didn’t really seem to be listening. 

 

“Well let’s see,” Allison said, mockingly, “he’s floating down the street with an army of the dead and he’s tearing the city apart, I’d say they’ve progressed pretty far.” It was rare for Allison to lose her tempter. Her legs still quivered underneath her, and she was shaken by the whole ordeal. 

 

“Shit,” Vanya muttered, “he really is going to cause the apocalypse.” A horrible part of her felt relieved that it wasn’t her, that they’d been wrong about her. 

 

“No, it still doesn’t make sense,” Five muttered, flicking through the nonsensical pages in front of him.

 

“Okay,” Diego snapped as he snatched the pages from his hands and forced Five to look him in the eyes. Five scowled. “You’re the one who’s not making sense, can you help him or not?” 

 

“As I’m sure you’ve discovered for yourself, this isn’t about helping him,” he sighed, defeated, “not anymore.” 

 

“So what are you saying,” asked Luther, “it’s too late?”

 

Five looked lost, sitting there dishevelled on the desk, looking between each of them. He shook his head, training his eyes on his shoes as they swung absent-mindedly beneath him. “I don’t know,” he said in a small voice, lip quivering just minutely enough that the others didn’t notice. “I think so.” 

 

“But there has to be some other–“

 

“I’ve looked, okay,” he snapped, “I’ve tried, but there’s nothing. I don’t think dad ever realised how powerful Klaus was, I don’t think he ever really cared. Klaus was a lost cause to him, there’s preliminary research up until Klaus was about twelve, but then it just stops, no more progress.” He pressed his palms to his eyes, wiping away the sweat pooling on his forehead. “If I just had more time, maybe I could crack it. I mean, alternate dimensions, this is my bread and fucking butter, but this is, I mean, we’re talking about the dead!” He slumped over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “We’re all fucked,” he finished, barely over a whisper. 

 

Luther, Diego, and Allison exchanged a worried glance. “So what you’re saying is you have nothing,” Allison sighed. 

 

“So we have to stop him, right? Whatever means necessary,” Luther asked, dejected. 

 

“Which would be all well and good if we had the means. Pogo was saying something about Klaus ‘going over the edge’ he’s like a medium between life and death, and if we could just bring him back over, just for a moment, then he might be… well, we could kill him.”

 

“But we won’t, right?” Allison asked. To no response she cried, more urgently, “ _right_?” 

 

“This is the fate of the world, Allison,” Luther grumbled.

 

“Don’t give me that crap!” 

 

“Well it doesn’t matter either way,” Five snarked, “because I have no idea how to do that.” The room was left in pensive silence, of which Vanya took advantage.

 

“Guys, I, err, I really have to get going,” she broached. 

 

“What for?” Five asked, still staring up at the ceiling, still not listening.

 

“My concert's in a couple of hours, I’m already late, actually, but I wanted to stay as long as I could and make sure everyone got back safe.”

 

“Klaus is tearing the city apart you can’t just go play in a concert,” said Diego, rolling his eyes. He didn’t think she was capable of understanding the danger, typical Vanya, she never understood anything. 

 

“He’s right, Vanya, you’re staying here,” Five agreed. She supposed he was right, but couldn’t help but feel as if her siblings were stealing this moment away from her. She’d thought that maybe this would finally be her chance to be in the limelight, then Klaus had decided to end the world. No, that wasn’t fair… she knew how it felt, for that power to take you over, even if she’d only experienced it for a brief moment. 

 

“What are we going to do?” Allison asked, more to herself than any of the others. “There has to be some sort of limit to what he can do, right? Do you really think he could keep this up across the whole world?” 

 

“He keeps bringing forth spirits, which strengthens his connection to them, which brings forth more spirits” Five mused “– bit of a destructive spiral really, something I’m sure Klaus knows a thing or two about.”

 

“Does he even know what he’s doing?” Luther asked sombre.

 

“He sure seemed to,” Diego shrugged, “he was still himself, it was freaky.” 

 

“What did he say to you?” Asked Five, “any sort of plan?”

 

“Well yeah,” Diego said, “he said he wanted to kill everyone, and he’s coming here to the academy, that’s the gist of it anyway.”

 

“Okay, so it’s decided, you all go someplace safe. He’s coming here, but I’m the one he wants. Once he has me maybe he’ll –“

 

“Woah, woah,” Allison exclaimed, “that’s so not happening.”

 

“I mean I don’t see why not,” Diego shrugged, “Five is the one that started this mess.”

 

“He’s our brother, we’re not just going to let Klaus kill him!” Luther snapped.

 

Suddenly the room was alive with the sound of their voices, bickering and pointing fingers with animated expressions. Vanya was still standing in the doorway. They kept on arguing. They all kept talking and didn’t even notice her, they never really did.

 

“Can you please just let me talk to him,” she said, hoping that one of them would care, or at least hear her. She was used to being shoved to the side, and now, when she was supposedly the most powerful of them all, it was still happening. She wasn’t their pitifully ordinary, meek little sister anymore, it was worse, because they were scared, treating her like a fragile little thing – especially Five. 

 

She sighed, drawing back into herself, stepping away from the crowd and towards the door. She wondered if any of them would actually notice if she left. There was faint knock that sounded from downstairs – the front door. The others didn’t noticed. She listened closer, and there is was again, a knock that stood out against the timbre of their arguing voices. “I’ll just get that,” she mumbled, too quiet for them to hear. She stepped out of the office. 

 

Walking down the stairwell, a muffled voice sounded from the other side of the doors to the academy. “Hey, guys?” It was Klaus. He sounded like himself _,_ voice small and lost, calling out to them. According to the others, he was tearing buildings apart, so clearly a door couldn’t stop him.

 

“Klaus?” She called, cautious, as she walked down the stairs. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to him, actually talk. She knew she could get through to him, so much of what they’d suffered through was the same. Upstairs, the others were plotting ways to kill him, but what if it had been her? If she was the one causing all this instead, like Five had said, would they have found it so easy to kill her too?

 

…

 

_1 hour_

 

“Knock knock,” Klaus cooed, from the other side of the door. He still sounded so… normal. Nevertheless, she was wary as she approached the him.

 

“Hey there, Klaus,” she said, opening the door for him. It was an unnecessary courtesy, if Five was to be believed, but she did it all the same. It seemed ludicrous, her casual tone – trying to act so calm as her heart beat double in her chest. It felt so strange, was she actually scared of him? She pulled the door open to find him standing there – rooted to the spot, not hovering like a maniac as the others had recounted. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, seeming sheepish and restless. He earphones spilled out of his shirt collar, a tattered military vest pulled over the top. So it was true, he really had traveled back in time. She gave him a welcoming smile.

 

“Hey sis,” he smirked. This time when he spoke, his voice was layered, ringing true with a thousand others. They made her ears sting. He dashed past her, letting the door shut behind him. Wandering out into the centre of the entrance hall, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his vest, rocking backwards on his heels. She noticed a faint blue glow emanating from them. 

 

…

 

“I have to try, okay! I can’t just stand by and let this – wait,” Five’s eyes darted around the room, “where’s Vanya?” As soon as the words left his mouth, the door of the office swung shut, and the locks clicked. “Shit,” he hissed, “Luther, do you think you could… Luther?” Large hands clamped down on Five’s shoulders and, before he could jump away, he felt that wave of nausea overcome him again, voices muttering like static in the back of his mind, chest tight, that feeling like he was falling. 

 

“Luther, what the fuck!” Diego spat, shoving into Luther as he tried to hold the struggling Five in place. He might as well have shoved against a tree, and when Luther threw a punch back, Diego slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.

 

Five threw himself against the door, much to the protest of his recovering body. Luther grabbed him again and held him in place. Five knew if he turned he’d see blue eyes staring back. “Get him off me!” He cried, but as he craned his neck around he saw Allison standing there, bodies stiff and muscles shaking, eyes filled with that blue light. Klaus was holding them all at once, stopping them from intervening – but with what? 

 

Five kicked against Luther’s grip, trying to bite at his arms through the thick material of his trench coat. “Vanya!” He screamed, over and over, but she couldn’t hear. “Vanya, come back, please come back!”

 

…

 

“What’re you up to?” She asked, still going for the casual approach. She felt pathetic, in a way the almost made her laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

 

“Oh, nothing much,” he grinned, “I just came to pay the old family a visit.” Vanya forced a smile back, giggling nervously. Klaus’ expression darkened, and she felt his eyes on her, staring right through. “Where’s Five?” He asked, feigning innocence. His playful tone sent a cold shiver through her. It was they same tone he used when he’d use when they were kids, cracking jokes to take the edge off their cold, secluded childhood. “I need to talk to him.” 

 

Vanya backed away. “H-he’s not here right now.”

 

“Aww, come on Van, I know you’re lying,” he teased, pouting comically, “if you’d just tell me you could save yourself a whole lotta trouble,” he smirked, almost sweetly. 

 

“Listen, I–I know what you did to him, you hurt him Klaus-“ 

 

He cut her off. She could barely stand she was shaking so much. Was it really all nerves – or was it him? “Well, do you know what _he_ did?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the eerie texture, the stolen voices, the whispers that followed every world. It was his own voice, Klaus, breaking through the din, cracked with emotion. Of course she knew, and she didn’t know what to say. He noticed her pointed silence, and broke a smile. “Oh Vanya, I know this is hard for you. You and Five were always so close, you’ve spent over sixteen years missing him and now he’s finally back – but you’re blind,” he drawled, mouth drawn tight into a hard line. “You can’t see what he’s become, none of you can. He might look like the same little innocent, insufferable kid, but he’s not. Our brother died when he ran away that day, he’s a cold-blooded killer, and he doesn’t care about us – care about you – at all.” 

 

“Is that what you tell yourself, that he’s not our brother.” She spoke up, mustering all her courage. “Is that how you’re bringing yourself to hurt him?” He was silent for a moment, and the way he was looking down at his bare feet on the marble floors, he almost looked remorseful. “Look, I understand how you’re feeling right now,” she ventured, “I know it’s gonna sound crazy, but I have power too, so much, in fact, that Dad gave me those pills to get rid of them. It’s scary when you…” she cast her mind back to that night in the parking lot, the way it had surged out of her, the fear in the men’s eyes as they’d been thrown back to their deaths. “when you feel that power inside you, when you can’t hold it back.” He looked at her, looked like he might actually be listening. “I’m just trying to say that… you don’t have to do this. We can help each other.”

 

He gave her a sad half-smile. “You can’t help me.” 

 

“No, Klaus,” she said, moving towards him, eyes full of sympathy. Klaus say differently. He saw pity. He didn’t want their fucking pity. “I understand.” But she didn’t.

 

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, a hint of the blue fire that her brother had warned her about. He took a step towards her, focusing on her. Voices were whispering, coming from inside her head. She blinked, reaching her hands up to her ears in confusion. Klaus smiled. “But you can still feel it, can’t you? Someone waiting inside, waiting to come out. All she needs is a little music.”

 

“Klaus,” she spluttered, as the whispers turned to screams. He clasped her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Please don’t, please don’t” she murmured, but he just kept on smiling. 

 

“You’re just like me Vanya,” he put a hand on her shoulder, and the noise was magnified tenfold. “You use those pills to keep it all pushed down, because it scares you, what you can do, but you don’t have to be scared anymore.” She felt something stirring, as her ears throbbed and thrummed. There were faces behind her eyes, but she could barely make out the words they were screaming, there were too many. “Dad tried to keep us shut away, tried to use us, but we’re capable of so much more.” 

 

“Please stop…”

 

“And Ben,”

 

“Please, please…”

 

“He was too, and it killed him, it tore him apart. We were meant for more than this, Vanya,” he pressed his forehead to her own, and the sound felt like a knife cutting through her head. It was drowning her, but she didn’t feel that spark, that rising power. Her medication was keeping it down, despite the overwhelming noise, it wasn’t enough. Klaus shuddered, tears spilling over. “It’s not working,” he mumbled, bringing his hand off her shoulder, fingers quivering. “All that power, it’s trapped.” It was as if he grieved for it. Vanya collapsed to the floor, head in her hands, his hold over her finally relinquished. “You don’t understand,” he hissed, “I need it, I need it!” He cried, reaching up his trembling fingers to the sides of his skull, clawing at his hair, pressing his eyes shut. He looked like he used to on those nights when the ghosts were at their worst – curled up against the wall, muttering to himself, lost to reality. “Come on Vanya,” he sobbed, “help me, help me…”

 

“No, Klaus,” she wiped away blood from her nose, scrambling to her feet. “You need help! You’re right, Ben had power, just like us, and it killed him. It’s killing you now, it’s destroying everything, can’t you see that!” 

 

“I thought you would understand, Vanya, this power… I can’t stop it, I can’t.” He panted, stumbling forwards. “No, no I need to do it, they need me to do it.”

 

“What if he could see you now – Ben,” she cried. They’d always been so close, Ben by his side, comforting him. “What do you think he’d say, seeing you like this?” 

 

It was back, that faint bluish glow, his eyes glazed with death. “Funny you should ask about him, little sister,” he grinned. She stepped back as he rose from the ground. He hovered a few inches above it, curls twisting in still air. 

 

Her voice trembled as she spoke, such a trivial thing, but it came out almost automatically. “We’re the same age.”

 

“Oh Vanya,” he pouted, shaking his head “you’re all little to me.” His eyes flared bright blue, and Vanya watched as a figure solidified beside him – from a blueish glow to flesh and dark fabric. He was there, as if he’d never left, as if he’d grown up with them all this time. Ben. 

 

He ran towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders, urgency sown into his face, the face she’d been missing for thirteen years, her closest friend. “Vanya!” He cried, “Run, you have to run, okay?”

 

She barely registered what he was saying, just stared with wide eyes. “B–Ben.” She stuttered, voice quivering. 

 

He shook her, “Please! Just go, he’s going to make me –“ He stopped short, spine wrenched straight, neck pulled up. He let go of Vanya and she stumbled backwards to the foot of the stairs. Light pulsed in his eyes, taking over. 

 

All the while, he struggled, screaming. “Klaus! Klaus you can’t, please don’t make me, don’t make me…” his voice trailed off and his face went slack. The blue fire that was left behind couldn’t see, it didn’t care. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus shuddered, he was puzzling something over, battling with himself behind those dead eyes. “I need you to help me, but it’s gonna be okay,” he nodded, trying to convince himself, “it’s all gonna be okay.” He clasped his eyes shut and tensed his arms, the faint blue glow that swam around his hands strengthened to spotlights, and Ben arched back, opening his jacket, opening the portal. 

 

Vanya realised too late what he was doing, mostly because it was so difficult to believe. The tentacles surged out, a roar sounding from somewhere beyond this world, deafening. He turned clumsily and clambered up the stairs, but in moments one of them swept her legs out from under her, and she fell hard against the floor. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred and one of them wrapped around her stomach, hoisting her up. Another slung itself around her neck, squeezing. She was only suspended there for a moment, just long enough to see him standing there, Klaus. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

 

“K–Klaus,” she choked, as the tentacle tightened around her windpipe, winding back, tensing. It twisted suddenly, pulling her head around in a swift motion. Her neck snapped. She only felt it for a second, the bone popping out against the skin of her neck, and the stain of mottled blue on her retinas as she looked down into those terrible eyes. 

 

…

 

Ben watched from behind dead eyes, and when Klaus relinquished his control, he ran to her side. “Vanya, oh god, oh god,” he sobbed, kneeling down beside her. “Vanya I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he scooped her up in his arms. She was so small, already growing so cold. 

 

“Don’t be sad, Ben,” Klaus said from behind him, putting on a cheerful tone. “She’s just like you now, she can help us.” Klaus reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder, but Ben shrugged away, body wracked with sobs. He couldn’t get the words out, he could only hold her. He was scared, of Klaus, of himself, of what he would make him do to the others. Klaus stepped back, hurt. “Let’s go,” he muttered, and, with a jerk of his hand, Ben stood up, fading back into that blue light, falling in line. 

 

Another figure stepped out of the air, eyes resting on her crumpled form at the foot of the stairs only for a moment. Ben stood at Klaus’ side and Vanya at the other, made of that same light. Her eyes were white, radiating power, her face contorted in anger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... very long chapter, but only one more to go. Just have to figure out how I'm going to end it... so it might be a wait but I promise I'll get it done eventually I've come too far to stop now. This might just be one of the very few fics I've ever completed so yaaay
> 
> you might be wondering what the heck happened to pogo, yeah idk he fucked off somewhere, he was originally in the office scene but I also had this whole other plot point where reggie did actually have some research on klaus that helped them combat his powers (+ a device to conjure forth specific spirits) but it got super expositiony and bAD so I scrapped it and (let's be honest) you're just here to see Klaus wreck their shit right? so yeah all that stuff in the previous chapter with pogo being like 'yeah there's some useful stuff in reggie's research' yeah idk, i was setting up for something that won't happen now but I can't be bothered reworking the previous chapter.


	10. In the January rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s insane, the end of everything?”
> 
> “Not everything, just the end of… something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Just give it a try, Klaus. What’s the worst that could happen?” – Ben, chapter 3

_15 minutes,_

 

Five heard her screaming. He heard the muffled sounds of running, an other-worldly roar, a thud against the marble. Then, the screaming stopped. 

 

Klaus wouldn’t hurt her. 

 

That’s what he told himself as Luther’s grip slackened, and Five pushed himself away from him. Behind, the others were coming to, holding their heads and blinking blurriness from their vision. The door offered no supernatural resistance as Five threw it open. 

 

“Vanya!” He cried, knowing that he was giving himself away, running right into danger. He didn’t care. 

 

“Five, what?” one of them mumbled, still coming to. 

 

Five ran out into the hall and down onto the central landing of the stairs. Klaus stood in the centre of the entrance hall below, hovering above the ground and looking up at him with that piercing blue stare. His expression was slack, emotionless, hands balled into fists and shaking at his sides. A figure swam into view beside him, just faint bright outlines at first, slowly becoming whole. Vanya. Her eyes radiated white light, her skin was near translucent and her neck hung at an odd angle beneath the dark hair swimming about her shoulders in a non-existent breeze.

 

“Vanya!” He cried, racing over to her. She jerked her head abruptly and Five stopped still, forced back by an overwhelming energy in the air. He couldn’t breathe, and she kept on staring, like she didn’t even recognise him. His eyes fell to the crumpled form at the foot of the stairs. Vanya. Neck snapped and laying still. Dead. 

 

The air held him, crushed him inwards, and he was unable to do anything but stare. When he spoke, his voice was small, controlled, hopeless. “What did you do?” If he’d just given himself up sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have happened, maybe Klaus would have been satisfied. He realised that this wasn’t true, that he was compelled now by more than his own grief and anger – he was carrying the world’s. He didn’t care about hiding his anger anymore, tiptoeing around Klaus as if he were afraid. He didn’t have the patience for fear anymore, and he certainly didn’t care about the consequences. “What did you do!” He roared, voice breaking. Klaus didn’t say anything, and showed no indication that he’d even heard him. Tears stung his eyes. “You killed her,” he cried, “why, Klaus, how could you kill her? She’s innocent, they’re all innocent!”

 

Klaus grinned silently, holding up his shaking palms and turning them over before his eyes. That blue light was stronger than Five had ever seen it. It ran under his skin, glowing like electric blood in his veins. The ground beneath them began to tremor, walls shifting, sifting stone and dust falling like ash after a fire. His smile grew wider into one of manic glee. He laughed, that airy, high-pitched sound he used to made to lighten a heavy mood. He looked around, wonderstruck. All the while, Five’s head pounded, stomach turning, throat swelled and stuck dry. He was going to die. Right here, right now, this power was going to consume him. 

 

“Klaus!” A voice behind him yelled. Luther, Diego, and Allison were close behind, skin slick with sweat and bodies trembling from their brief encounter with Klaus’ influence. He jerked his head up towards them, eyes flaring blue. There was a different sort of power there, much stronger than what Klaus could do alone. It danced and wove itself through the air in waves of energy. He held the three of them suspended in the air, that energy wrapping itself around their necks, squeezing, choking. Bones cracking, breath cut short. He was going to kill them. Knives loosed themselves from the holster over Diego’s chest, spinning out to rest in mid air before launching themselves towards the three suspended figures. Klaus was going to make him watch. Watch the world burn and the people he loved die. 

 

One of the blades drew itself across Allison’s throat in a quick, clean slice, a surge of white energy propelling it forwards. Her eyes bugled wide before they went dark, and a sheet of red streamed from the opening in her neck. 

 

“All – i,” Luther spluttered against the air crushing his body. A barrage of blades buried themselves in his chest. 

 

Diego’s jaw was clenched tight, eyes wide. He could still see. He looked at his brother with a mixture of horror and aching sorrow, because he should’ve done more, they all could’ve done more. That day when they found him up in Five’s room, moved to hysterics, shaking on the ground, _he killed him, he killed him/What is he talking about?/ Does it matter? It’s Klaus._ The first knife lodged into his eye, the second between his ribs, sliding towards his heart. 

 

He’d led them into this. Five may as well have been the one driving the knives to their targets and crushing the air from their lungs. He wondered if they felt the same. Below him, the doors of the academy burst open and a crowd of bloodied figures came wandering through. The light streamed from Klaus like a beacon, illuminating the streaks of tears falling down his cheeks. Three more shapes were pulled into existence. Allison was clutching at her throat, opening and closing her mouth in some desperate, painful attempt to speak. Luther’s skin was pale and bloodless, a dozen pinpricks of red welling through his coat. Diego held his hands to his eye socket, blood seeping through his fingers. 

 

The shock of it was enough to awaken something in him, and Five summoned up all the energy he could muster. He let it well around his tightened fists and pull him through space. He jumped up to the upstairs hallway and, like a child, ran for his bed. 

 

The rifle was still sitting on the bed, the briefcase still on the floorboards where Klaus had dragged it out while wearing Five’s skin. It was useless now, just a hunk of plastic, yet it was the only thing in this world with a link to the life that Klaus had lived. All fifty-one years of it. 

 

“Oh Five,” their voices cooed – Five couldn’t even make out Klaus’ among them anymore. 

 

Five thought about trying to jump through time, one more blind plunge into the icy waters, it might be his only chance. He couldn’t do it, run from this nightmare that he’d created. It was a nice sentiment, to stare death in the face, but it was just that – sentiment. The years he’d spent killing, he’d only survived by developing a disregard for such things. He stopped caring, and look where that got him. 

 

He felt Klaus approaching. His chest tightened, a wave of nausea pulling him down. He heard footsteps marching, dragging, scuffling down the hall, an army of corpses traipsing through the academy. Five closed his eyes and tried to relax. There had to be some way to get through to him, to pull him back on the side of the living, as Pogo had said. It was the only way that he could be killed. 

 

“There you are, Number Five,” Klaus exclaimed. He lowered himself towards the ground a few inches, floating under the doorframe. Thousands of hungry eyes stared from behind him. Vanya stood at one side, and at the other –

 

“Ben,” he murmured. Their eyes saw nothing, glazed over blue. All those hours he’d spent as a kid pent up in the library with the two of them, so calm, so quiet. They’d whisper late into the night, plotting their escape. If only they’d gone through with it. Look what had become of them, become of him. 

 

“You know, Dad was always going on about our true potential,” he raised his arms, muscles alive with light. “Is this it? Is this what he wanted?”

 

Five didn’t answer. When he opened his mouth, his grief, his shame, rose up like a lump in his throat. 

 

“I mean, on my own, I’m nothing,” he continued, “but her,” he looked over at Vanya. Her face was expressionless, stare wide and impossibly angry. The walls were shaking under the weight of her power, all of it building up inside her. “She’s angry, she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. And she’s free, Five, of all the things Dad did to her, the pills and the years upon years of torture. She’s pure power, she’s an atomic bomb running off pure sound. And everyone that ever lived is screaming inside her head, isn’t it beautiful!” He cried. Five stared at her, willing for her to see him. 

 

“And look at this,” he gloated, “Number Five is finally speechless. Don’t have a quip for us, Five, nothing at all?” Tears welled in his eyes, he felt so powerless, so hopeless. The Handler was right, no matter what he did, it only made things worse. “As much as I wanted to be the one to kill you for what you did to me, I won’t deny the rest of them. They’re all around you, can’t you feel them staring.” He could; those eyes boring into his skull, invisible fingers wrapped around his throat. “They’re screaming, but you can’t hear, they’re crying out for blood - your blood.” And rightly so - he’d lost count of how many people he’d killed. At the time it had been necessary, each head hitting the floor a stepping stone on the path back to his family, back to the world he’d known, the world he’d save. And now, the blood he’d spilled in the name of that vision was the fuse that had set the world on fire. A finger pressed against the trigger in the jungle one night, a strangled scream struggling over the sounds of war. 

 

He felt creatures stirring in the dark, pressing in on him, as snippets of voices and faces flashed before him. _Why did you do this to me/ Who are you/ He’s just a kid, what happened/ This monster/ Remorseless/ Ruthless/ He deserves to–_ “I’m sorry,” Five spluttered, eyes pressed shut. He wasn’t just addressing Klaus, but all of them. 

 

“What?” Klaus spat, disbelief shining through his anger, breaking through the other voices. 

 

“I’m sorry for what I did to you, for what dad did to you. He tried so hard to pit us against the evils of the world but, he ended up making monsters of us all, didn’t he?”

 

For a moment, Klaus betrayed a quiet smirk, but it was gone just as fast. He shook his head. “You’re not sorry, you’re scared.”

 

“Klaus, do you whatever you want to me. I know I deserve to die, and worse, for everything I’ve done. Not just to you, to countless others, but please, you have to stop now. Kill me, then end it.”

 

“Too late now, little Number Five,” he almost seemed sad. Almost. “This is what I was always meant for, all my life they were calling out to me and it’s taken me this long to listen. I was always so afraid, always shutting them out. Death, it’s not what you think, it’s not the end of everything.” _Just the end of… something. “_ They know that now – Ben, Vanya, Allison, Luther, Diego – they understand.”

 

“And what about Dave?” Klaus hesitated, whether the voices in his head were too loud or the thought of him brought too much pain, the name caused him pause. It gave Five a small glimmer of hope that he still remembered what it was to be alive. 

 

“Who I was doesn’t matter anymore. This power is all I am.” 

 

One by one, figures from Five’s past began to take shape. Some he remembered intimately, his first kills, the one’s he’d struggled to accept. Others, he didn’t remember at all, targets he’d been issued and learned to view as no more than tasks to be completed. Mistakes to be corrected – just like Dave. Klaus amplified their anger, their grief for what was taken from them by an old man with a rifle, killing without care. He thought that, maybe this was fitting. Maybe this was what he deserved. 

 

A figure materialised behind Klaus, woven from that same bright light. He was different to the others, no malice in his eyes, no darkness. He wasn’t here for revenge. 

 

_…_

 

“Klaus?” The sound of his voice was like a punch to the gut, it set all the air surging from his lungs, leaving him empty. All that was left was a horrible twist of hope, and excruciating dread. 

 

He shut his eyes, felt his knees go weak. “No, no,” he muttered, other voices, other thoughts still whispering to him. “It’s not really you.”

 

He could almost hear that smile; the way his lips turned up into a crooked grin, the way his eyes shone and made Klaus’ mind go blank. “It is, it’s me.” 

 

He pressed his eyes shut harder, sending hot streams of tears down his cheeks. He crumpled to the floor, hands over his eyes, he couldn’t bring himself look at him. The figures around him dissipated, all except Vanya, her power pushing through, draining him, him and everything else. She was about to explode, the world playing its cacophonous song inside her head. Not long now. Before, when he’d felt her power surging through him, he felt alive with energy, but now it was gone. With the veil of power snatched away, all that was left was emptiness, despair. He felt just as hopeless, just as broken as he had laying on this very floor three days ago, pitiful stares boring into him as grief broke over him in waves. 

 

“Hey,” Dave cried, crouching down beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He felt warmth, as if he were still alive. “Hey, come on, look at me.” He cupped a strong hand around Klaus face, holding his wrist and gently prying it away from his eyes. Klaus gave in, taking his hands away from his face, looking up at Dave with wide, incredulous eyes. 

 

“Dave, oh my god, I... I can’t believe you’re really here,” his voice shook, and he brought an equally shaky hand up to Dave’s face. Dave grinned, despite it all. The world burning, everything that Klaus had done. 

 

“Klaus,” he sighed, "what are you doing?” There was no anger, nothing but kindness. He didn’t deserve it. Klaus looked down to the floor, ashamed. 

 

“I don’t know,” he whimpered, “I don’t know.” He smiled, lips quivering through the tears. “God, where were you? I was looking everywhere, I couldn’t find you.”

 

Dave searched his eyes, expression solemn. “I think you know why.”

 

Klaus only hesitated for a moment, because as much as he told himself that he’d been searching for Dave, that finding him was the only thing he wanted, he knew that he’d been holding himself back. He couldn’t face him, not only because he’d left him for dead,or that he’d lied about who he was and where he’d come from, but because it was his fault. His own damn fault for opening that briefcase, and Five… “I couldn’t see you, not after what I did,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry Dave, it was my brother, he killed you - but it was my fault really, i should never have been there, I-“

 

“Klaus, it’s okay,” he said, softly, “I know.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah, though to be honest I’m still a little annoyed that I got sniped by a thirteen year old.” 

 

A chuckled bubbled through his lips, how was it that Dave could make him laugh at a time like this? “How are you so...” He flailed his hand in the air, indicating towards Dave vaguely. “I mean, I’ve, _god_ , I’ve killed so many people,“ it was only then that the truth dawned on him completely, settling on his back like stones at the bottom of a lake. He was drowning. “I killed them, Dave, I killed all of them.” The only people he’d ever loved were dead.

 

“It wasn’t you.” And wouldn’t it be oh, so much simpler if that were the case. 

 

“But it was, I just, I can’t believe I let this all go so far. And now,” He looked over at Vanya, white light radiating from her body, skin near translucent. “I can’t stop it.”

 

“I know.” He pulled Klaus closer to him, and Klaus buried his face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. He was warm, how was it that he was warm? He still smelt like the jungle, like rich mud and blood and fire. Somehow, it was comforting. 

 

“I mean it, Dave,” he murmured, tears brimming in his eyes. “They don’t even listen to me anymore, I opened the gates and there’s no holding them back, and Vanya... there was so much anger inside her, locked away, I can’t stop her, I c–“

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, running his hand down Klaus’ back, soothing. 

 

“No, no,” he sobbed, “it’s not okay, the world is gonna end, everyone’s gonna die.”

 

“It’s okay.” 

 

Klaus held him tighter. The only voice inside his head was him. “Dave…” 

 

…

 

2 minutes,

 

He couldn’t do it. The one time it mattered, when all the world was at stake, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Not again. The rifle was pushed up against the back of Klaus’ head, and Five held it there with trembling hands. It seemed that Dave had been enough to snap Klaus out of himself, pushing him just a fraction back towards sanity, towards life. His power raged on. He was a door opened between two worlds, destroying him was the only way to shut it. Five knew this, he’d been preparing for this moment for the past day, assuring himself that he wasn’t weak enough the let his love for his family get in the way of the greater good. 

 

After all, what was one life against seven billion? 

 

There it was again, that tug of war. The past fighting against the present.

 

_60 seconds_

 

Vanya stood, a figure of white hot fire, features barely visible beneath the storm. Dust from the crumbling building settled on his shoulders. It took him back his first days spent at the end of the world, fires raging, ash falling thick as snow. The world would soon be reduced to that again, if he didn’t act. And what if he did? There was no one left. He would be as alone in the world as he’d been in the apocalypse. 

 

_20 seconds_

 

He couldn’t do it. 

 

His finger relaxed its grip around the trigger, and he let out a long sigh. 

 

The air wavered around her, heat radiating as a ball of energy formed, and a beam of white light crashed through the ceiling. The stone began to cave in, and it occurred to him that he should try to jump away. 

 

_10 seconds_

 

Instead, he pointed the rifle down at the floor and 

 

_9 seconds_

 

Wondered if the Handler was laughing now.

 

_8 seconds_

 

Klaus looked so peaceful, so happy

 

_7 seconds_

 

mumbling at nothing, tears streaming down his face.

 

_6 seconds_

 

Five looked up at the hole in the ceiling, staring at the sky

 

_5_

 

Just in time to see fire erupting over the surface of the moon, chunks of it coming free, soon to rain down. 

 

_4_

 

Before the rubble from above crushed his body, it occurred to him, in the end, that this was

 

_3_

 

All

 

_2_

 

His

 

_1_

 

Fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I know some of those waits between updates got pretty lengthy.
> 
> I'll just say that... I'm sorry about the ending. I couldn't really see things resolving after everything that had happened, but at least Klaus got to be with Dave in the end :) I originally wasn't going to have Klaus kill all of his siblings, just Vanya, but I figured I'm never going to write an evil Klaus fic again so may as well go all out. What was my aim with writing this, pain?? idk, but hopefully you all enjoyed?? If you didn't like the ending (which I'm sure will be the case since it's not the most... satisfying thing out there, not even sure that I like it) please comment what you would have done for an ending or what you would have liked to see, I'd love to discuss!!
> 
> So yeah, thank you for reading, maybe now I can get onto those wips (or maybe, write something that isn't tua fanfiction... psyche!)


End file.
